


Apocalypso

by barghest (gingersnapsandbubblewrap)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Addiction, Bounty Hunters, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Apocalypse, Technopathy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23647342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingersnapsandbubblewrap/pseuds/barghest
Summary: Three hundred years ago, the world ended. Humanity is scattered across the desolate landscape of the Roguelands, struggling in small groups to survive in the post-apocalypse. The civilization that left the world in ruins has been long gone, wiped out by endless wars that brought the world to its knees. Gone with them is the impossible technology that let them rule, buried under the dust and debris of the past.Ena Khalidi is an exiled technopath running from her past.Talia Ataxi is a deserter looking for revenge.Both women are hunting the same bounty.Little do either know that the artifact they seek holds the key to the world's destruction-- or its redemption.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4





	1. the Burning Wastes

The Burning Wastes were colder than Ena had assumed they’d be--at night, anyway. During the day the fine crystalline sands that covered the Burning Wastes would soak up and refract so much of the sun’s blistering heat that it could peel a human’s skin right off the bone in three hours of direct light or more-- at least, that’s what the manual said, a book bound in leather of indeterminate species and without any author attributed. The title was “THE BOUNTY HUNTER’S ESSENTIALS TO SURVIVING IN THE ROGUELANDS”. Plain and to the point, much like the book’s advice itself, although it could get frustratingly vague in certain chapters. One such chapter, titled just “the Rabidlands” was only two short sentences long: “the Rabidlands are located to the east of the Tranquil and West of the Tarrow River. Avoid at all costs.”

  
But in most aspects the manual had proven to be invaluable, and this was one such aspect. The book had gone into detail about the Burning Wastes’ history and unique environment, as well as list local tribes, flora, fauna, and equipment needed, including a breathing mask to filter the fine particles of sand through the air (which, thankfully, Ena had in her possession) and a something called a fully-covered gamma glass sand-skimmer (which Ena did not). In lieu of whatever a sand-skimmer was, Ena travelled by night and slept during the day, usually camping out in the second story of a half-buried abandoned house. From what Ena could tell, this area had once been some kind of city before it was flooded with these hills of sand. The corpses of buildings jutted from the dunes here and there, like skeletal fingers reaching out from the ground. In the moonlight, it made Ena feel downright poetic. The sand gleamed almost iridescent and pearly and reflected beautifully the glow of the twin moons in the sky.

It was during the second night of travelling that Ena began to feel less alone among the wastes than she should have been. At first it was just a gut feeling, one that made her check behind her more than once, but easily chalked up to just some lonely nighttime paranoia. The feeling didn’t exactly go away over the course of the next couple of days, but it was easy to ignore, at least. On day five, Ena began to set traps around her campsite, little inconspicuous metal things that could be easily hidden in the sand. After all, her tinned supplies wouldn’t last forever, and if she could trap a stray lizard to fry up later, that saved some worrying about going hungry on the job. The next nightfall when she awoke and checked the traps, she found all untouched-- but one. The trap wasn’t set off by a lizard, or even something bigger that would have stepped in it and carried it off yelping with the metal teeth caught around its leg. It was just...sitting there, teeth clenched around nothing. Well, almost nothing. Ena unlocked it with the small key she kept in her pocket and found a tiny scrap of fabric, the kind found on durable, good quality combat pants or army uniforms. Someone agile enough to snatch their foot away from the trap in time had activated it relatively unharmed. It made Ena’s blood run cold when she found it. A caravan traveller, perhaps? One of the lone nomads passing by? Ena wished she could be so optimistic.

  
Ena went from sleeping with her pistol secured safely in her boot holster to sleeping with it concealed under her pillow, clutched tightly in her hand and ready to flick off the safety if she heard so much as a footfall. The traps moved from their scattered locations in the sand to just outside Ena’s camping spots as a defensive measure. During the nighttime, she kept to the shadows, moving more carefully than she would had she still suspected she was alone. As the days passed without incident, she grew more doubtful that anyone truly was following her-- a life of paranoia was necessary for a bounty hunter trying to make a living in the Roguelands, but not always needed. False alarms happened all the time, after all.

  
On day eight, Ena woke up with the cold barrel of a gun pressed to her temple.

“Move and I’ll shoot.” A voice-- muffled and distorted by something--a mask? A helmet?-- said. Ena opened her eyes, but did not dare to move her head to look at her attacker. She swallowed. Her throat was dry and scratchy. The building they were in-- the third story of what used to be an office building-- was dusty and old and bereft of any furniture except for a large semicircular desk built into the floor a few meters away. There were windows on either side, but some other scavenger or nomad before her had helpfully painted them with thick black paint to keep out the deadly sunlight reflected off the sand. Based on the light streaming through the cracks in the paint it had to be around noon; she was trapped inside with nowhere to run. Ena cursed silently. She’d remembered to set out traps the night before, but apparently they weren’t enough to deter whoever was holding a gun to her head. Her bag had been taken from her side and ransacked, its contents placed next to it on the floor. Her machete was in there, as well as ammo refills for the pistol under her pillow. Thankfully, she’d slept in what little armor she had. She clutched the handle of her pistol, trying not to let it slip in her sweaty hand. There was no way that she would be able to draw it, not in this position, but it was a start. And then there was always her secret ace in the hole. She just had to stay alive long enough to leverage it.

“What do you want?” Ena said, trying not to let her voice shake. “Money? My bag’s over there.”

“If I wanted your money, I would take it.”

“And if you wanted me dead, you would have killed me, so I’ll ask again: What. Do. You. Want?”

A holocube clattered to the ground next to Ena’s head and she tried not to flinch at the sound. It sputtered to life, projecting into the air above it information about a job. Ena didn’t need to read it; she’d already committed its contents to heart: 500,000 chits for a hard drive retrieved from Evercorps Weapons Manufacturers. The drive would be travelling from the testing grounds in the Tranquil through the Burning Wastes towards Everborough in an armored caravan. Make it look like a regular robbery.

  
“Recognize this job?”

  
The job? The first thing Ena thought was that maybe this person was a corporate thug, hired on by Evercorp to snuff out any hunters on their trail-- but that didn’t add up. Either they would’ve killed her or offered her more money if they were really that concerned. God knows that Evercorp could afford to pay off a few bounty hunters.

“I’m guessing you found it in my bag?” Ena said. “Yeah, I recognize it. Why?”

“I didn’t find it in your bag. I found this in your bag.” A second holocube clattered to the ground next to the first, sputtered, and displayed the exact same bounty.

“What-?”

“I thought it was too big a coincidence to see another living soul in the middle of the Burning Wastes. Turns out you’ve got the same target as I do.”

The same target. Ena glanced sideways down the long gun aimed at her temple, sizing up her captor for the first time. The gun was a modified rifle; it looked military in origin, but the paint was all but chipped away so from what militia it came from was anyone’s guess. The whirring red battery fixed in the center said it was a laser rifle, and the scope on it suggested the gun was outfitted for a marksman. The hunter themselves was covered in full armor, complete with a helmet that disguised their voice and face. They were either ex-military or robbed someone who was. This was gonna be tough. The only thing Ena had on her side now was the element of surprise.

“How were you planning on taking a fully-armored corporate caravan, exactly?” the other bounty hunter made a noise that was either a snort, a sigh, or a growl-- it was impossible for Ena to tell behind the helmet. “You couldn’t even stop one rival hunter from just killing you in your s--”

Ena grabbed the barrel of the gun in her hand and pulled, drawing the pistol out from under her pillow in one fluid movement. It wasn’t hard enough to disarm her attacker, but they had been caught off guard and stumbled forward. Ena fired once, and the bullet glanced off the side of the other bounty hunter’s helmet, not quite penetrating it but taking a chunk of metal off in the process. The hunter stumbled back and Ena leapt to her feet. If her pistol wasn’t enough to get past the body armor, her machete might be. She dove towards her pack just as the other hunter got her bearings and tackled Ena around the waist. The air was knocked out of her gut and the pistol clattered out of her hand as the two struggled for dominance on the dusty ground.

“You goddamn little shit--!” The hunter growled into Ena’s ear. Ena thrashed blindly, reaching the arm that wasn’t pinned under her towards where she thought her pack was. The hunter’s arm came crashing down on her windpipe and she gagged and struggled to breathe. Just as she was starting to see spots, her fingers found the familiar wrappings of the machete handle and she grasped at it desperately, swinging it close to bury itself in the hunter’s forearm. The hunter roared in pain and Ena pushed them off her. She was still coughing and gagging from the pressure on her throat, and the sudden influx of oxygen was making her head spin. She raised a shaking arm to take aim with the pistol at the bounty hunter, hesitating for a moment to wait for her vision to focus. Before she could fire, the hunter had dislodged the machete from their forearm and flung the blood-spattered knife towards Ena. The hilt of the knife hit her straight between the eyes and Ena cried out in pain; the pistol clattered to the ground next to her and now the hunter was charging towards her.

No machete, no pistol, no other choice. Time for her ace in the hole. Ena readied herself, pulling her left leg up towards her and swinging it outwards to meet her attacker’s abdomen. Ena felt, rather than heard, a familiar click in the hollow shin of her cybernetic leg, hidden under her baggy pants, followed by the slide of metal on metal as the blade stashed there scissored out from inside it. Ena didn’t need to look to know that the wicked curve of the sharpened edge was shredding through the front of her burlap pants. There was no way for her attacker to dodge or change direction now; the metal was Ectaran Chromium, far more resilient and deadly sharp than any body armor could withstand. Any second now, the blade hidden in Ena’s prosthetic leg would tear through the flesh beneath her opponent’s body armor and spill her guts onto the dusty floor.

The next few seconds happened in slow motion: Ena discharged her blade and swung it up towards the bounty hunter, and then, as if expecting it, the hunter’s hand went up, faster than Ena could have predicted or even thought was possible. It was as if they were expecting it the entire time. The hunter’s hand went up, dodging the blade and catching Ena by the ankle. Ena was thrown off balance and began to fall. The hunter’s expressionless helmet surged towards her. A pain exploded in Ena’s head and then everything was black.

Ena had lost her left leg years ago. Their caravan-- back when there still was a caravan-- had stumbled across a border and into some gang’s territory. It’s odd, when she thinks about it, that she can’t remember the gang’s name. It was just some pack of thugs that decided to claim a hunk of land for their own. The caravan had travelled this way before, five years ago, and the gang had moved in since then. Ena’s clan was blindsided by the literal minefield they found themselves caught in the middle of, meant to ward off some other gang or corp infringing on the other’s turf. Ena was lucky-- she got away with three limbs still attached. Others in her clan didn’t escape with their lives. It took a while to get used to the fact that Ena’s left leg was now about two hand lengths long, and even longer to get used to the searing pain that shot through the nerve attachments where her cybernetics were clamped on to her flesh. She couldn’t walk for about a year, and even then it took time to learn how to do it quickly and without stumbling. She was eleven years old at the time.

Ena woke slowly as though pulling herself up out of quicksand. Her head and body were aching with pain-- but at least she was alive. Her face was coated in sticky, crusted blood, and her arms and legs were bound tightly with knotted cord. She coughed and tried to spit, but it dribbled pathetically down her chin. She was in a different room-- dark, and empty, with a modest fire blazing before her in its center.

“You’re awake.” A voice said, familiar despite not being muffled or distorted by a mask. “I was afraid I’d killed you for a second there.” The other bounty hunter stepped into the circle of firelight. As Ena’s bleary eyes adjusted, she could tell that the other hunter had removed the helmet and part of the armor. Their right forearm was bare, and part of it was bandaged up where Ena had sank her machete deep into the flesh. Ena’s eyes traveled up to the hunter’s face. It was a woman’s face, framed by shaggy white hair shaved close on the left side just above the ear to reveal a set of scars that jutted like lightning carved deep into her skull and across her face to bisect her eyelid and eyebrow. Her eyes were deep-set and cold and dark. Despite her white hair, the woman’s features seemed oddly young, and she couldn’t have been more than five years Ena’s senior, give or take. Her strong, square jaw was set fiercely, and her voice when she spoke was low but brimming with dangerous intent.

“What’s your name, bounty hunter?” the woman across the fire asked. Fuck it, Ena thought. There might as well be one person who still knows my name after I’m dead.

“Ena Khalidi,” Ena replied evenly.

“You have no idea how lucky you are, Ena Khalidi,” the bounty hunter said. “Today’s the day I let you live.”

“Why?” Ena asked.

“You’re a hacker, aren’t you?” The woman said, pulling her gauntlet on over her bandages. “I saw your equipment in your bag. Gave that cybernetic leg of yours a look when you were unconscious. Hacking port embedded near the top of your thigh-- smart.”

“How did you know about my leg?”

The woman smirked. “You aren’t the only one here with bio-enhancements.” Ena looked closely and in the dim light, she could see a dim green glow emitting from the woman’s scarred left eye.

“Your eye--?”

“I can switch it over to infrared, UV, scoped, you name it. The sensor detected an irregularity in your body temp and I scanned you before you woke up. I knew from the start. Although--” she stepped closer, and Ena instinctively flinched away-- “I didn’t expect to have as much trouble than you gave me. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed.” She reached out and grabbed Ena’s jaw with a hand that felt as though it was made of iron. Ena struggled in her grip to no avail. “Hm. Doesn’t look like you have a concussion. Good. I’ll need you at your best.” She let go and Ena forced down the urge to spit in her face.

“You’ll ‘need me’? What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I have more firepower, better weapons, and more combat experience, and you know how to hack past Evercorp’s security system.” She bent to crouch in front of Ena until they were eye-to-eye. “Without me, you have no chance of getting past the sheer manpower of the armored caravan. And without you, I have no chance of getting into the security system. I protect you, you help me, and I let you live.” The hunter took out a hunting knife and Ena flinched, but the woman set to work cutting her loose.

“And if I refuse?” Ena asked.

The woman looked up at her with burning eyes. “You won’t.”

Ena had no response. She sat in silence as the woman in front of her cut her bonds, one by one. When she was done, the woman straightened up and offered her hand to Ena.

“Who are you?” Ena asked.

“My name is Talia,” the bounty hunter said.

Silently, Ena took her hand, and promised herself she’d put a knife through Talia’s head the second this was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	2. Outsider

The next night spent travelling was torture. Ena felt like a tethered dog frothing at the mouth, being forced to travel next to Talia. Talia had affixed two shackles to either of Ena’s wrists the night before. 

“See this?” Talia pulled down her collar to show Ena a small, circular patch attached to the side of Talia’s neck. “This has a direct link to your cuffs. If my heart stops, these will respond by electrocuting you until they return the favor.” Talia stepped back and unsheathed a knife from her boot. “I wanted you to know before I cut you free.” She set to work cutting the knots around Ena’s arms and legs casually. “I have a remote, too. Attack me, you get a shock. Try to run, you get a shock. Attempt to sabotage me in any way…” 

“I get the picture.” Ena spat. 

“Good.” Talia looked up at Ena and smiled in a slanted way that reminded Ena of a wolf. 

“So now what?” Ena said. “It’s still daylight out.” 

“Now, we sleep.” Talia said, going to her pack. “Unless you want to check and see if I’m bluffing.” 

“I’m good, thanks.” 

“Smart,” Talia said, spreading out her bedroll next to the fire. “Rest up. It’s going to be a long night tomorrow.”

Talia wasn’t as talkative when they were out in the Wastes. She had put on her helmet again, so Ena couldn’t read her expression at all. Ena had at least expected her to gloat, to order her around, to lord her power over her at least a little, but all she’d gotten was silence.

“You’re ex-military, aren’t you?” Ena said as they were passing under the shadow of a tall building. Talia turned towards her. Moonlight gleamed off the impassive mask of Talia’s slightly dented helmet. 

“Yes,” Talia said, turning away. 

“Thought so. Which military?”

Talia didn’t answer. 

“Must be a pretty cushy life. Stable job, guaranteed roof over your head. Maybe even a nice desk job in a few years. Why’d you give it up for bounty hunting?” 

This time Ena got an answer in the form of a slight grunt. 

“Bet I know the answer to that. Didn’t work well with others, huh? I can see why.” 

“Being military is fairly common among bounty hunters,” Talia snapped. “Being what I can only guess is an exile from the Ectari, who I was under the impression were pacifists,  _ isn’t.  _ How about we talk about that?” 

“How did--” 

“Your leg. It’s Ectaran Chromium, clearly clan-made. The blade was added later, I’m guessing. You’re a hacker, something extremely suited to a technopath, which runs in the clan’s families.” Talia turned her back on Ena. “I’ve stayed with the Ectari before. They’re good people. Better than me. No idea where you went wrong.” 

Ena lunged at her. She couldn’t help it; her rage was hot in her throat, forcing its way into her limbs. Talia caught her arm by her wrist before she could land a blow. 

“You don’t know anything,  _ nechém, _ ” Ena growled, spitting the Ectari word for ‘outsider’ like poison off her tongue.

“Watch yourself,” Talia said. She threw Ena back like she was made of paper. “I pried into your history to prove a point. I won’t be so forgiving next time you attack me.” 

Ena pushed herself up off the ground with both arms. She balled her fists, clawing at the fine sand underneath them, and clasped them tight until her knuckles ached. When she finally picked herself up off the ground, Talia was already walking away. 

It had always struck her as strange that violence was against her clan’s creed. True, she was born and raised an Ectari, but that did not mean she was a stranger to violence. Everywhere around them there was violence-- the roving gangs that lay siege to the countryside did so with guns and bombs and blades. The townships that they passed, great walled titans that loomed on hilltops in the distance, were armed with guards, and the people within them would throw rocks or even fists when arguments broke out. One time, Ena’s father had gotten into an argument haggling over the price of used mechanical parts, and the shopkeep slapped him in a heated moment. 

“That man hit you,” Ena said later. “Why--” 

“The  _ nechém  _ are barbarians,” he said simply. “Try not to judge them for it; it’s just their way.” Ena never told him that the ‘why’ of her question was more along the lines of ‘why didn’t you hit him back’. 

Their oath of pacifism wasn’t all that made them stand out from the  _ nechém.  _ Their folklore and songs, for example, or their craftsmanship with steel and silicon, or their spicy-sweet cooking. Their traditions were very strange to most, and, if Ena’s mother was to be believed, very old as well. It was tradition, for example, to greet travellers warmly and give them a place to rest. Ena met many wonderful and interesting people that way; rugged mountain men who lived off the land, taking their cargo down to one of the nearby townships. Runaways from nearby gangs that drank too much but laughed a lot, and always were grateful for their help. Stoic loners who wouldn’t say where they were from, but thanked the clan quietly for the warm meal and hospitality. Each visitor would stay in a different family’s tent each night; when they had stayed in every tent available, they had to leave. That was the Ectari’s way. 

Ena remembered the face of the last visitor that ever came to her clan. She was fourteen years old at the time, a whole lifetime ago, but she can picture his face in her mind as clearly as if he were in front of her still. He had blue eyes and curly blond hair that was turning grey at the temples. His eyebrows were blond too, so light that he looked like he didn’t have them from a distance. When he smiled, something made Ena uncomfortable, like she had to run. 

“Here,” Talia said, stopping in front of a tall, rectangular building. “Let’s stop in here while the sun rises. Get some rest in the meantime.” 

Ena surveyed the building, scanning it for any broken windows in reach. “How’ll we get in?” 

“I have a zipline. Come on,” Talia said, and gestured for Ena to come closer. 

Ena looked at her with disgust, but, seeing no other way out of it, came reluctantly closer. 

“Come on,” Talia said, and pulled her roughly in by her waist. “Now, hang on.” She unlatched something from her gauntlet and it sprang open. “Here we go.” A nasty-looking hook flipped itself open and, with a flick of Talia’s wrist, shot up into the air. Ena had just enough time to register that she should really hang on tightly before a  _ crunch  _ sounded from above that indicated the anchor had found purchase. Ena gripped Talia tightly, finding a secure handhold on her belt, and then they were propelled through the air fast enough to make Ena certain she would vomit for a second. The next thing she knew, she heard the sound of Talia’s boot hitting concrete and then Ena was hefted onto steady ground. 

“Oh gods,” Ena said, struggling to stay upright in the sudden onslaught of dizziness.

“It’s useful enough. Fun, even, once you get used to it.”

“I’ll never get used to  _ that _ . That is awful.” Ena leaned over, putting her hands on her knees, and tried to breathe through the nausea. The last thing she needed in her breathing mask was puke. 

“Hm. Nice view, though.” Talia took a few steps towards the building’s edge and regarded the landscape. Ena couldn’t deny she was right. The moons were fingernail crescents that hung low over the horizon, and the sky had begun to streak with just the slightest hints of purple and pink as the sun grew closer and closer to cresting above the dunes of the Wastes. The sand shimmered and reflected the color back in a mesmerizing way that gave the illusion of a glassy ocean in freeze-frame beneath them, interrupted here and there with the looming shadows of buildings that jutted from under the surface of the vast, rolling sands. 

“Does your nose still hurt?” Talia asked. 

“I-- why?” Ena said, taken aback. 

Talia gestured towards her face. “I hit you in the face pretty hard last night. I have something for the pain, if it’s too hard to sleep.” 

Ena felt something part reflexive hatred, part tenderness, part confusion flare deep in her gut, and it came out of her mouth as a scoff. “Yeah, well, I stabbed your arm pretty badly too. Worry about yourself before your prisoner.” 

“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten,” Talia said, rubbing her arm absently. She fell silent, then, scanning the horizon. 

“What is it?” Ena asked.

“Usually, I’m the only one working a job. Some bastard hires me to take out some other bastard over money or a grudge or something. It’s just one person wanting another person dead. Or, one person wants something stolen, someone roughed up or mangled or brought in. This job, though...two people want something stolen. That we know of.” 

“You think there’s more bounty hunters out there?” 

“I have a hunch. There’s two concerned parties so far. I don’t want to risk the assumption there are  _ only _ two.” Talia turned towards Ena. “Who hired you, anyway?” 

“Does it matter?” Ena said. “They’re not getting their money’s worth  _ now _ .” 

“I guess you’re right,” Talia said. She turned towards Ena. “All right. Let’s head inside before the sun fries us both.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	3. Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mild eye horror midway through the chapter.

Talia slept without her mask on. It’s not like she needed to keep it on; anywhere they sheltered for the night was always sealed tightly enough to prevent any of the dust from getting in. And anyway, it was uncomfortable to sleep in. Of course, her armor was uncomfortable to sleep in, too, but that was harder to take off and on in case of an ambush.  
Ena didn’t take off her mask when she slept. She didn’t take off her armor, either, and she kept her pack clutched tight to her chest. It was because she didn’t trust Talia. Which is understandable. Smart. Can’t trust anyone out here. Not if you want to live. 

Talia pretended to fall asleep quickly each night. She knew Ena wouldn’t sleep at all if she thought Talia was awake. The truth was, Talia had a hard time sleeping without a drink. God, she wanted a drink so bad. If the withdrawals hadn’t nearly killed her the last time she quit, she’d be out looking for one right now. Talia looked over towards her pack where it lay a little ways away. The only thing in there that could take the pain away was a syringe of Rabid, well-hidden in a pocket on the side. She didn’t even bring any painkillers for fear of losing herself on this job, but she kept the little vial of angry-looking red liquid in case of emergency. She forced her eyes away and turned over onto her side. Ena slept on her back a little ways away. Talia watched her chest rise and fall slowly. It was hard to tell with her mask obscuring the lower half of her face, but Ena looked different asleep. Less angry.  
Talia hated the way her wrist shackles gleamed in the dim light of the fire they slept next to. She wished they had met under better circumstances-- she was drawn to the idea of being on friendly terms with her, of having one fucking person in the wasteland to trust on and be trusted. Maybe that was a lie, Talia deluding herself into thinking she simply missed the more wholesome human connection she’d been lacking. Deep down she suspected the real reason she was drawn to Ena was because of her slender form and big doe eyes. The last girl she’d met with those traits had shared a bed with Talia for about a year before screaming that she never wanted to see Talia again unless she came back sober. Talia hadn’t come back.  
It was useless to think about the past. Talia flopped back onto her back and forced her eyes closed. Time to sleep and try not to fall backwards into roiling nightmares. 

“Fuck,” Ena said. It was the next night and they’d been walking in silence for a few hours now. Talia turned to see Ena hold up the remains of a pre-prepped meal, scraped clean from its plastic container.  
Talia walked closer, taking the container from Ena and giving it a sniff. It didn’t smell moldy or rancid, maybe a day old at most.  
“Guess you were right,” Ena said. “There’s someone else out here.”  
“Whoever they are, they’re either not aware of us or they’re sloppy, leaving this behind,” Talia said. She tossed the container back into the sand. “But better safe than sorry. Err on the side of caution and all that. Let’s find somewhere high to scout, make sure we’re alone in the immediate area.”  
The highest building within range was a spire nearby. Near the top there was a small, bell tower-like chamber, perfect for two people to perch in, and easy to grapple to. Ena liked grappling just about as much as the first time, Talia figured, but she tried to keep her amusement to herself so Ena didn’t try to puke on her out of spite.  
“What do you think this was?” Ena said once they’d reached the top and she’d got her bearings.  
“The building?” Ena nodded. “A church, probably. Big one. This spot’s just for decoration, though--” Talia pointed up towards the top of the chamber, “--No actual bell. It’s all just for looks.”  
“What a waste.” Ena sat down, as far away from Talia as the small space would allow. Talia remained standing, peering out above the wastes. “I can’t see anyone so far,” she said finally. “Let’s duck in, see if we can’t find a place to eat while we’re stopped. There’s a window a little ways down the spire. I can break it and we’ll rappel in.”  
“Fine, but you head down first and leave the grapple line up. I’ll climb down myself.”  
“You sure?” Talia asked, eyeing Ena. She was small, and not particularly built-- not exactly the type used to climbing up or down ropes.  
“I’m not going to run off,” Ena said, misinterpreting Talia’s hesitation. She tugged at her wrist shackles. “You made sure of that.”  
“...Fine.” Talia turned and unhooked her grapple from her gauntlet, wrapping the end twice around the base of one of the upper columns and tugging it to ensure it was secure. She glanced over the side of the faux bell tower; had she been one to get queasy at heights, she may have felt a little weak-kneed. As it was, she simply let out a little cord and began her descent.  
It was only a few rappels down that she finally found a window. It wasn’t blacked out, like most of the other buildings’ windows, meaning the inside had probably gone untouched for a while. Next came the tricky part; Talia had originally thought Ena would help her kick in the window with her metal leg, but it looked like she had to make due with her regular, fleshy ones. She set her boot firmly against the window, braced herself, and then pushed off, swinging back from the building. The first impact made little more than a low thud, but Talia felt a small crack begin to form under her heel. She swung back a second time and the window shattered, cracking like ice and revealing a gaping, toothy maw where she’d broken it. She swung back, extricating her leg from the windowpane, a sharp sting ringing out in her calf. As she’d feared, some of the glass jutting from the frame had scraped her leg on the way out, right on the soft part on the inside of her leg that wasn’t protected by armor.  
“Shit,” Talia said softly. It didn’t matter much. More of an inconvenience than anything else. She’d tend to it later. For now, she planted one leg on either side of the window, straddling it, and used the muzzle of her rifle to clear away the broken glass from around the windowpane. When she was satisfied that enough was cleared away, she clambered carefully but awkwardly inside.  
It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the gloomy darkness inside the chapel. Outside the halo of moonlight pouring in through the grimy windows, the room was low and stacked with boxes. It looked like an attic of some sort. Long ago, some of the boxes had been rifled through, the contents either taken, splayed out on the floor, or left in their rotting cardboard containers. Talia made a mental note to check and see if there was anything useful after they ate. For now, though, she set about detaching her gauntlet and attaching it to a sturdy-looking support beam nearby. When she was satisfied, Talia trode over to the window.  
“All right, it’s safe to come down. Just be careful.”  
“Okay.” Talia heard Ena fumble with the gauntlet somewhere above. Talia set about sweeping the scattered broken glass to the side in a pile and then found a clear spot of floor to sit down and assess the scratch on her leg. She stripped off her armor from the waist down, setting it aside in a small heap, then set about unlacing her boots.  
“Shit!” Ena said from outside.  
“You all right out there?” Talia asked.  
“Yeah...yeah, no, I’m okay. It’s...really high, that’s all.”  
Talia thought about going to the window to check, then thought about being kicked in the forehead by a small, flailing hacker, and reconsidered. She kicked off her boots and began unlatching her belt. The spot where she’d been grazed was small, but it had begun to bleed onto her fatigue pants, so it was definitely an open wound. Talia didn’t know what happened if she got whatever awful dust that covered the Burning Wastes in her bloodstream, but she didn’t particularly want to find out. She took off her belt and fatigue pants and tossed them aside. The breeze on her exposed legs was pleasant compared to the otherwise sweaty affair that the Wastes had been up to this point. Talia had the thought, not for the first time this job, that what she wanted most right now was a long, cool bath. She turned her calf over and examined the cut. She was bleeding like a stuck pig, but it was just a little scrape. Must’ve got unlucky and grazed a vein. Talia shuffled around in her pack and retrieved some gauze and medical tape. She considered adding a daub of medi-gel on top of it, but it seemed like a waste of her limited supply for such a minor thing. She wiped the blood off and bound it up quickly. It was almost muscle memory at this point.  
There was a thud outside and Talia turned to the window.  
“Khalidi?” Talia called.  
“Shitshitshit!” Ena yelled back. “Help! Help me!”  
Talia pulled on her boots, not bothering to tie them before she rushed to the window. Ena was dangling outside-- one arm clinging to the windowsill, the other clamped around the grapple cord. Ena looked up at Talia, her eyes large and afraid. “I was almost to the window--My foot fucking slipped. I-I can’t pull myself up.”  
“Shit. Okay, just...just hang on.”  
“No shit,” Ena said, but her voice was trembling.  
“Can you grab my hand?” Talia said.  
Ena let go of the window ledge, arms shaking, but quickly grabbed back on. “I can’t, I’m going to fall. I can’t.”  
She’s panicking. Talia took a deep breath. “Take a deep breath, okay? Try your other hand-- how about that?”  
Ena obliged, taking a short, shaky breath in and out. “Okay.”  
“Okay. On three. One, two-- three.” Ena’s hand slipped from the cord and found Talia’s. Talia silently thanked the grips on both their gloves; if it had been bare skin, Ena might have been too sweaty to get a good grip on. Talia could feel her trembling under the fabric.  
“I’m gonna pull you up now, okay? Brace your feet against the wall and when I say three you’re gonna push with both legs and your other hand and hoist yourself up.”  
“On three,” Ena said in a very small voice. “Yeah. Okay. Got it.”  
“One…” Talia gripped Ena’s palm tightly. “Two…” She braced herself against the window. “Three!”  
She pulled up and over, hard. Ena flew through the open window, colliding with Talia and knocking both onto the floor.  
“Fuck,” Ena said, out of breath and shaky.  
“Ow,” Talia agreed underneath her. Ena rolled off limply.  
“God, I thought it would be better if I wasn’t hanging off you like a baby aborrtha.”  
“Better?” Talia asked.  
“I-- may have a fear of heights.”  
“No shit.”  
“Shuddup.” Ena took a few long, deep breaths. “Why the fuck are you in your underwear?”  
“Grazed my leg kicking in the glass,” Talia said, grateful for the full mask that concealed her burning face. “Just patching myself up.” She stood, brushing herself off, and set about getting dressed again. 

About half an hour later, they had lit a small handheld lantern Ena had in her pack and settled down to take off their masks to eat.  
“What’s that?” Ena asked, asked as Talia unwrapped a small, fist-sized bowl.  
“Surplus rations. Picked it up cheap at the last general store I visited.” Talia picked up her canteen and dropped a little into the bowl. The contents sizzled on impact, steaming and swelling until it was full and round and smelled vaguely of corn. She showed it to Ena. “What about you?” she said through a mouthful.  
Ena held up a few hard biscuits and a large thermos. She poured out a little powder from it onto a bowl and mixed it until it was a pasty, thick consistency. “Dehydrated maktai. Made about ten gallons of it way back.”  
“What’s that? Is it good?”  
Ena shrugged. “I used to love it about five gallons ago. It’s like a spicy stew thing. Got plenty of protein and carbs, so it fills you up good, and there’s not a lot in it that goes bad quick.”  
“Hm. Wanna trade?”  
Ena looked at her suspiciously, chewed her lip, and shrugged. “Sure.”  
They passed respective meals over the lantern and began eating in silence. The maktai was good. It tasted smokey and spicy-sweet, and had lumps of what could have been potato or lentil in it. Talia scraped the last of it off the bowl with the hard tack until the bowl was practically clean.  
“This isn’t bad,” Ena said through a mouthful. “Kind of bready.”  
“I’ve got plenty if you wanna trade.” Talia handed the bowl back to Ena.  
“Thanks.” Ena said, taking the bowl. “And, uh, thanks. For earlier.”  
“I’m not gonna let you fall to your death,” Talia said bluntly. “Whatever you think about me, I don’t want you getting hurt.”  
“Right. Toting around damaged goods would be a pain.” Ena stared at Talia. Talia had seen the look long enough to anticipate the question before it left Ena’s mouth. “Where’d you get those scars?”  
“Didn’t I tell you not to pry?” Talia said, annoyed.  
“I’ll tell you how I lost my leg,” Ena said.  
“I didn’t ask.”  
“But you want to know, right?”  
Talia rolled her eyes. “Fine.”  
“Stepped on a land mine. Your turn.”  
Talia grunted and thought it over for a second. “Ever seen a painspike gauntlet?” Talia asked.  
“Sure. Worn by gangs, big spikes on the knuckles?”  
“That’s the one. Got backhanded. Took my eye out.”  
“Ouch. Who did your eye?” Ena asked.  
“Who took it out?”  
“No, who did it. The manufacturer.”  
“Oh,” Talia said, and shrugged. “I dunno. A cybernetics shop in Aster.”  
“Can I see it?” Ena asked, and held out her hand. “I won’t mess with the settings, promise.”  
Talia almost flat refused, but something about the excited gleam in Ena’s eyes made her relent. “Fine, I guess. Don’t drop it.” Talia leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes back to expose the little groove in the metal. She hooked it under her fingernail and popped out her eye, shaking off the mild discomfort in her buzzing nerves at the disconnect. The retinal wire was still attached to the back, so she still had a feed going through her left eye, but it was shaky and distorted. She closed her organic eye to stop her getting too dizzy and unplugged her retinal wire. She opened the other eye as the mechanical one went dark, handing the eye over to Ena.  
Far from being disgusted, Ena looked fascinated at the whole affair, and eagerly took the eye in both hands, bringing it close to her face and examining it closely. “It’s wet. Does it produce any saline itself?”  
“Uh...no. My tear ducts are still functioning. I do have some prescription gel I use about once a week if they get too dry, but I have to put it in myself.”  
“Hmm. This is some good steel. Did you get to pick the color?” The scleras were dark, almost black metal, but the irises were a bright green-blue.  
“There weren’t a lot of options at the shop I was at. They had another model that had purple irises, but it didn’t have darkvision installed.”  
“I could probably change the color if I had a .007kk screwdriver and a spare LED,” Ena mused.  
“Please don’t.”  
“Hey, it’s your eye,” Ena said. “Hm. This isn’t half bad. It feels like it’s been tweaked a bit with extra parts and software since it was originally crafted.”  
“It feels that way, huh?”  
“Sure. I’m a technopath. Anything running on Qualathine batteries or power I can  
connect to just by touching.” Ena tapped one finger on her wrist shackle. “Stuff like this, that runs on regular old electricity, though? Nothing.”  
“What about diesel, gasoline, stuff like that?” Talia asked.  
“Just Qualathine. Can’t communicate with diesel.”  
“How does that...work, exactly?” Talia asked. Ena held out Talia’s eyeball, satisfied, and Talia took it.  
“Not really sure. It comes naturally to the Ectari. Like...singing, I guess. Everyone can do it, but it takes practice to do it well, or to do certain things. The Ectari sort of think of Qualathine as a mineral that’s alive, sort of, although I don’t know how much of that is legend and metaphor and how much that’s literally true.” Ena watched closely as Talia retrieved a vial of gel from her bag and coated her eye in it before plugging it into her retinal wire and popping it back in her socket. Talia shook her head, trying to clear it of the strange, tingly feeling of reconnecting it, like her eye had fallen asleep temporarily.  
“So can you manipulate it?” Talia asked. “Any piece of tech you can communicate with?”  
“Within reason,” Ena said. “It has to have power and be functioning. I can’t change your eye color without proper tools, but I can make it focus and refocus, or reset it to factory settings just by touching it if I wanted to.”  
“Yeah. Don’t do that,” Talia said, wiping away some excess gel on her face with the back of her hand and flicking it away.  
“I don’t really have a reason to. And I don’t really feel like poking at your eyeball, anyway,” Ena said, shrugging. “It’s pretty cool, though. Thanks for letting me have a look.”  
“Anytime,” Talia said flatly. 

When they finally lay down to sleep that night, Ena laid down her sleeping bag perpendicular to Talia’s, only about ten feet apart. Her mask was still on, and she still faced away from Talia, her pack clutched close to her. 

Still, Talia thought it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	4. Technopath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for violence throughout, TW for implied violence/sexual abuse near the end, during the flashback, but nothing explicit.

Ena woke suddenly in the middle of the day. She and Talia had found a corner of a building jutting out crookedly from the sand and decided to drop in through a broken skylight; it was another submerged office building, this one almost completely buried. They hunted for a while to find a room that wasn’t flooded with sand that they could hunker down and get some sleep in. Finally, they had found a place to sleep in a stairwell that provided an easy escape via a large, partially-shattered window someone had braced the long side of a table against to prevent too much sun getting in. Even now, streams of sunlight were pouring in through the gaps of window the table didn’t quite cover; is that why Ena woke up?

  
No. Ena heard something far-off, a slight noise that caught her attention. She wasn’t sure what it was at first. Her ears strained to pick it up, and after a long few minutes she almost thought she’d imagined it the first time. Then, it came again, faint but unmistakable: the sound of voices, echoing from somewhere within the depths of the building.

  
Ena looked over to where Talia lay and considered waking her. Talia was lying on her back atop her bedroll, one arm resting on her stomach, the other outstretched beside her. Her white hair was splayed across her face, obscuring one eye. The other, the one Ena knew was cybernetic, was closed. Talia’s scars stretched from Talia’s upper cheekbone, across her eyelid and eyebrow and disappearing into her hairline. Three jagged, white scars, like lightning pressed into the soft flesh of her face. Ena felt a sudden, urgent impulse to reach out and trace her finger over each, feeling where Talia’s skin had been knit together as it healed and toughened into harsh, frenetic lines. Talia stirred and furrowed her brows. Ena nearly jumped back, feeling guilty and embarrassed to have been caught staring at her in her sleep. But all Talia did was murmur slightly, more sounds than real words, and then shift back into troubled sleep. Ena decided then to leave her be and investigate by herself.

She stood slowly, making sure not to wake Talia in the process, and shrugged on her pack. Ena crept forwards, making her way down the stairs and pressing a hesitant palm to the ajar door to the main office space. The office floor was vast and empty, the desks and chairs having been taken or ripped out long ago, with only a few columns here and there to break up the space. It was totally dark, too; the windows at the other end of the room were shattered and sand had poured in through the gaps, so the only source of light was from the lantern Talia and Ena had set up in the previous room. Ena slid inside, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

For a moment, she held her breath. The darkness cloaked her from any other living thing that might have been stirring down there, but that wasn’t enough to reassure her. She could feel her heartbeat thundering in her chest as she moved towards where a column was meant to be, somewhere in front of her and to her left. After what felt like years of moving slowly and quietly in complete blackness, Ena’s outstretched hand brushed rough concrete, and she pressed herself to the column. And just in time, too-- she could hear those same distant voices from earlier echoing closer and closer.

“--loads of these around here, aren’t there?”

“Hmph. Waste of space, you ask me.”

“You said it.”

There was a clatter and a creak, and a door somewhere behind the column where Talia stood hidden opened. The two voices, each slightly muffled by breathing masks, were brash and loud and male.

“Fuck me, more sand. Fucking sick of fucking sand.”

“Mh. Got sand in my asscrack.”

“I’ve had sand in my asscrack for the last fucking week. After this job, no more chasing bounties into the desert.”

Talia was right, Ena thought. These men were after the bounty too.

“After this job, we won’t have to chase any bounties at all for a good bit. This one’s got quite the price on it. What’s in the box, anyway?”

“No clue. Doesn’t really matter, eh?”

“Damn right.”

The voices were moving closer to where Ena was. A light was now visible coming from the left side of the column and moving quick. Ena’s eyes followed the shadow the column left stretch slowly across the floor, creeping the opposite direction as the light moved. Her hand rested on her pistol’s holster and she thumbed the latch, moving it up and out.

“Whaddaya think? Good place to post up for now?” The first voice was gravelly and had some kind of Northern accent Ena couldn’t quite place.

“Good enough as we’ll get. Have to sleep with our masks on, though. Bloody fucking sand.” The second had the same accent, but was more nasally and high than the other.

“You know why this place’s got so much sand, yeah?” Gravel-voice said.

“No, why?”

“Special bombs they dropped during the war. Fucked up the ecosystem, all the plants dried up. The radiation settled into the dirt and crystallized it. Everything just eroded into dust, right?”

“You’re making that up.”

“No I ain’t! Heard it from a travelling merchant!”

“Radiation gives you cancer, you idiot. It doesn’t ‘crystallize dirt’ or whatever the fuck you said.”

“Well, this kind did! Or, wait, was it the radiation…? I think it might’ve been something else.”

“Hush up, now. Gotta get some sleep. We’re already behind schedule.”

“Yeah, yeah. Should I power Cleo off?”

“Nah, leave her on. She can patrol the camp while we sleep. This place gives me the heebie-jeebies anyway.” Ena felt a flicker of excitement at that. They had a machine with them. She didn’t dare to hope it was qualathine powered-- but if it was--

The two men grew quiet. Now it was time to wait. Slowly but surely, Ena’s racing heart slowed to a crawl, jolting back up whenever either of the two other bounty hunters shifted on their bedrolls or coughed. The light that they had taken in with them eventually dimmed as their lantern entered battery save mode after about thirty minutes of no movement detected, but still Ena waited. Finally, after what felt like hours, she stood slowly, trying to ignore her trembling organic leg, and peered cautiously around the pillar.

Their campsite was small, consisting of mainly the same basic equipment as Ena and Talia’s, with a few distinguishing differences: their masks and weapons were distinctly Scarab, made of the trademark chitinous material that flashed and glimmered in the dim lamplight. Either they were from the Lonely or looted someone who was. Knowing bounty hunters, the latter was more likely. The material, scavenged from monstrous Scarab beetles Ena had the fortune of never seeing in person, was beautiful and lightweight, but less durable than other metals. It was suited for the desert landscape of the Lonely, less so for enemy fire. Talia’s armor, worn and battered as it was, would still be more durable than Scarab armor. Ena thought she’d be able to get a bullet through-- if she was lucky. She didn’t want to have to be lucky.

The other artifact of note was the prowling, seething cybernetic machine that was circling the camp, just outside the ring of lamplight. Ena didn’t need to get close to recognize the telltale blue-green gleam of Qualathine batteries that radiated softly from within the beast, pulsating almost imperceptibly, like a heartbeat.  
Just as soon as Ena saw it, it seemed to see her, its broad head whipping around to glare towards where Ena stood hidden. Ena snapped back into place behind her pillar. She couldn’t let it wake the bounty hunters before she got a chance to touch it. Just one touch is all she needed.

Luckily, the beast-- Cleo, they’d called it-- didn’t sound the alarm immediately, but went to investigate. As it approached, Ena could hear its hydraulics hissing and sliding. It was smooth, almost completely silent, the sound of springs compressing and decompressing almost invisible to the untrained ear. Ena waited, sweat beading on her forehead, as she felt it grow closer and closer. Not yet. She gritted her teeth. Not. Yet…

Cleo closed in on her hiding place just as Ena whipped around her pillar, arm outstretched. If Cleo had flinched, backed away or reacted even just a little, Ena wouldn’t have been able to make contact. But Cleo didn’t flinch. Her eyes stared steadfastly forward, two on each side of her massive head, easily the size of a large melon, each burning with that same blue-green fire that burned inside her metal exoskeleton. In the moment before Ena’s fingertips made contact with Cleo’s forehead, Ena looked into those eyes and felt frightened.

And then she connected with Cleo, and her fear was immediately replaced with awe. Her mind was flooded with extra sensory information, nothing like Ena could ever feel except through another body, one made of metal and wire and silicon. She immediately knew every setting, every diagnostic and glitch and quirk in Cleo’s programming, and she was beautiful. Powerful, vicelike jaws, nimble body, and flexible yet durable carbon steel spine. The design of the beast was alien but familiar in shape, like a lioness or a pitbull but whose legs bent in new angles. Her silhouette was somehow geometric but felt organic and alive.  
Ena took a deep breath. It had been a while since she had connected with a machine this complex. It was overwhelming. She re-examined Cleo: yes, she was impressive, but more details began standing out after the initial rush of adrenaline that came with communicating with this kind of machine. The joints in her legs had rusted, one of her eyes flickered a little, and part of her shoulder had been cobbled back together using a different scavenged machine-- and whoever had attached it didn’t do a very good job. Still...those jaws looked strong. Strong enough to crush through a few measly inches of cheap iron shackles. As soon as the thought entered her mind, Cleo’s mouth opened. Ena chewed her lip. Who knows the consequences of tampering with these cuffs? She doubted even Talia knew if she would get a deadly dose of electricity for breaking them off.

She considered the alternative and knew she didn’t have any other option.

Ena lowered her fists into Cleo’s mouth, taking her time to position her wrists carefully between Cleo’s jaws. She didn’t want to take one-- or both-- hands in the process. When she was certain that it was where she wanted them, she closed her eyes. She couldn’t risk flinching at the most critical moment.  
She felt the snap of Cleo’s mandible around her wrists, and suddenly she could feel weight fall away from her arms. She opened her eyes, heart leaping in her chest, and Ena resisted the urge to yell out in excitement. They were off. Not even so much as a static discharge.  
The handcuffs clattered to the floor, echoing in the empty room. Ena froze, not daring to turn around. A drop of sweat that had beaded on her chin fell silently from her face.

“Move and I’ll shoot,” a voice-- high and nasal-- said from behind her. Ena’s blood ran cold. “Turn around real slow. Keep yer hands where I can see ‘em.” Ena raised both hands, slowly, and obeyed. Right from the hands of rival hunter directly into another, down the barrel of their gun. The hunter’s face slid into view, far closer than Ena would have liked, close enough for her to see the whites of his eyes, close enough for her to reach out and trace the glimmering hexagonal patterns on the iridescent surface of his Scarab armor. He held a pistol in his hand, casually, calmly, pointed towards Ena. He gestured with it as he spoke now. “What are you doing here?” Ena didn’t speak. “Were you tailing us? Why?” His eyes flitted from Ena to Cleo. His face cleared as the realization dawned on him. “Technopath. Shit.” He wetted his lips with his tongue. He was older, not quite an old man, but old as bounty hunters went. He had bloodshot, tired eyes, and his nose was crooked and whistled when he breathed. “Eddis!” he shouted. “Eddis, wake up!”

A muffled clatter from behind them, followed by a low grunt. “‘M up. What is it, Maurice?”

“We’ve got a situation, here.” The nasally-voiced one, Mattis, didn’t take his eyes off Ena.

Eddis cursed and scrambled to his feet, taking in the scene. He was bigger than Maurice, and younger, with a round face and wide-set eyes. “Who’s this?”

“Dunno. Who’re you?”

“I-I’m…Talia,” Ena said. She wasn’t sure why she gave a fake name, nor why she’d decided to use Talia’s. Her mind was racing too quickly.

“She’s a thief,” Eddis said. “Don’t matter what her name is.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Ed.” Maurice said evenly.

“Bullshit. There’s no one out here that isn’t up to thievery or worse. I say kill her and keep our own skins--”

A gunshot rang out, the echo deafening. Eddis’s body hit the ground, bleeding from the head in gory spurts.

“EDDIS!” Maurice screamed. Ena took her chance and lunged towards Cleo, landing with the flat of her palm against the metal beast’s chassis. A shot rang out, barely missing Ena’s outstretched hand, tearing into Cleo’s torso and burying itself deep in her metal ribs. The reverberations of Cleo’s faux-pain ripped through Ena’s body and she felt her muscles seize in shock as she fell to the floor.

As the next shots rang out, Ena felt a pair of rough hands grab her and the muzzle of a gun presssed up painfully against her temple. She was dragged to her feet, still dizzy from the empathetic echoes of pain. The arm that grabbed her was rough and wiry and scarab-clad. The gunshots stopped, leaving nothing but the sound of her own ears ringing and Maurice’s ragged breathing in their place.

“Come on, then. Show yourself!” Maurice said. The dust, kicked up in clouds, began to settle, and little by little Ena could make out Talia’s unmistakable outline. “This your little friend? I’ll kill her! Don’t think I won’t!” Talia’s shadow was silent. “Eddis?” Maurice called out. “Eddis, get the hell up.” A note of desperation entered Maurice’s voice. “Fuck...fuck, you fucking killed him.” He sounded scared, angry. “You fucking killed my only friend.” Bit by bit, the pressure of the muzzle against Ena’s head eased. He was going to shoot Talia, then herself. Or, Talia would shoot him, then Ena. Her mind raced, attempting to figure her odds. Talia stopped shooting when Maurice threatened her. Maybe Talia didn’t see she’d slipped her cuffs. Maybe she thought she could re-capture her afterwards. Either way…  
Talia’s left hand thumbed the handle of her knife in its sheath at her side, wrapping her fingers around it as carefully as she could. It didn’t matter. Maurice was focused on Talia. He was crying, hot and wet; she could feel it on her cheek. Eddis’ body lay slumped not too far away.

“I’ll kill you,” Maurice said simply, and leveled his pistol at Talia.

The gunshot rang in Ena’s ear, and she was near-deaf as she drew her knife and rammed it into the soft underside of Maurice’s throat. He sputtered, bleeding, and fell off her. Ena let go of the knife handle, letting it fall with him. He coughed and gasped, struggling to breathe, struggling to speak, but his tongue was impaled in his mouth and he was choking on his own blood. He looked up at Ena and the whites of his eyes were flooded with blood, too.

And then he died.

Ena turned towards the door. “Talia?” Nothing. She couldn’t make out her shadow in the dark. Ena retrieved her knife, wiping it off in the dirt before sliding it securely back in its sheath, and walked forward unsteadily. She heard a gasp and began to run.

Talia was on the floor in a heap. She wasn’t bleeding, but a chunk of the lower part of her helmet had been blown off. Her mouth and chin were visible, and she was struggling to breathe in the dusty room. Even in the low light, Ena could see particles of sand clinging to Talia’s lips and the skin of her jaw. With shaking hands, Talia reached up and unclasped her helmet, pushing it off her before collapsing backwards. Tears were budding in the sides of her eyes as she choked to death on the dust around them. She looked up at Ena. Talia looked so small now compared to Ena standing over her. Talia mouthed a word, but nothing came out. Ena wanted to say something biting, but she couldn’t bring herself to. To be honest, she wasn’t sure of what to say. So instead, she simply walked away.

The man with the curly hair and grey temples slept in a different yurt every night, according to their tradition. When he had slept one night in every yurt, he would be asked to leave, if he didn’t leave before then. He had stayed two nights with the Ectari when it was time to stay in Ena’s family’s yurt; the previous day he had slept in another family’s yurt. Ena knew the girl from that family, an annoying ten-year-old named Masa who chewed with her mouth open and talked too much.

That morning at breakfast, Masa had been completely silent and had a strange look on her face.

Ena didn’t remember his name. To her at the time and every time she thought of him after, he would always just be “the man”. He talked to her father and asked him many questions as their caravan traveled that day. He was always smiling, always laughing.

Ectari yurts were mounted on motors and separated into four to five spaces by metal screens; if Ena had siblings, she would share a room with them, but she did not. Instead, she slept on the floor in what, during the daytime, functioned as the main living room on a bed that folded out from the wall. That night, Ena’s father had spread out an extra bedroll for the man on the other side of the room as her. Ena watched him prepare the sheets as she sat on a stool next to him as her mother cut her hair with a pair of scissors. She remembered the man watching her as she got her hair cut. She pretended not to notice, but she did. When her mother was done, she put the scissors on a nightstand that sat next to Ena’s bed and swept the hair into a bucket to throw away. Then, Ena dressed for bed and read a book until her father told her it was time to go to sleep.

Ena had tried to sleep, but couldn’t. She hated having a stranger in her yurt-- worse, in her own room. She got the feeling he was still watching her, but every time she turned over to sneak a peek, he looked like he was asleep, so she turned around and tried to slip into slumber.

She was almost asleep when she felt his hands on her. She woke to find him standing over her, and he smiled, but his eyes looked hungry and cold. His hands moved over her, tracing the lump of her form over the sheets, and then slipped underneath. The spark of panic in her chest changed into a hot flame that grew and grew and grew until she had to close her eyes to contain it. She heard a noise and knew that the man was removing his pants.

Her hands found the scissors her mother had left on the bedside table.

Talia woke slowly, fighting through the foggy haze of unconsciousness. She registered, faintly, that her hands and feet were bound, and that she wasn’t wearing her helmet, but a mask was strapped to her face in its place.

“You awake?” Ena asked. Talia blinked and looked up blearily at her.

“I thought…” Talia’s voice was rough and raspy. She coughed. “I thought you would leave me to die.”

Ena’s face flickered with something like confusion and almost like sympathy. “Yeah. Well, I didn’t.”

Talia nodded towards her bound hands. “So, what. Is it my turn to be your captive?” She laughed mirthlessly. “Guess that’s fair.”

“No,” Ena said. “You’re not going to be my captive.” She walked towards Talia until she was right at her feet. “Here’s the deal. If you accept, I’ll let you go. If you don’t…” Ena shrugged. “Then I’ll leave. I’m sure you can find your way out of a few substandard knots, once you have your strength back.”

“A deal?” Talia asked, too exhausted to argue.

Ena squatted down to look at Talia eye-to-eye. “We get the bounty. Together. We turn it in, together. We split the cost 50/50. We go our separate ways, alive.”

“What’s the catch?” Talia asked.

Ena frowned. “50/50 payment not a good enough catch for you?”

“So that’s it? Just agree to that and you’ll let me go?” Talia said. “You have no leverage. No way to control me.”

“You had your chance to kill me. You didn’t.” Ena said. “And now I have my chance. And I won’t. Is that not good enough for you? Because it is for me.”

Talia looked her up and down.

“Okay, then. I agree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading,


	5. Fingercliffs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for heavy alcohol use during the flashback as well as non-explicit sexual content and having gay feelings.

The expanse that stretched between the end of the Wastes and the beginning of the Tranquil had no name as far as the guidebook was concerned. In the fold-out map of the Roguelands the guidebook provided, the Tranquil stretched around the Burning Wastes, its lush green cupping the stark circle of sand almost gently. The caravan they were pursuing would be taking the long way around, sticking inside the Tranquil rather than have their goods damaged by the blazing heat of the Wastes-- the only way for two people on foot to catch up was to cut through. On the map, the stretch of pale desert encircling the Wastes was little more than a thin ribbon; in reality, it stretched into the horizon and ended in rocky cliffs that encircled the Wastes. In Talia’s mind, she thought of those cliffs as protectors that kept the acrid dust of the Wastes out of the Tranquil. The cliffs looked, from where Talia stood, like jagged fingers reaching up from the ground, holding the hissing scorpion of the Burning Wastes in its rough palms. On her map, she drew a dotted line demarcating the boundary, and labeled it “Fingercliffs” in small, cramped letters.

“What’re you writing?” Ena asked. She was sat next to Talia in the shade of a great downed sand-ship, tilted at about a sixty degree angle sunk deep into the sand. They had both awakened early and were watching the sun sink beneath the horizon before going out to cross the desert together. Cleo sat curled at her feet, glowing a little in the dark and humming softly. The thing made Talia nervous despite Ena’s reassurances. The way it lay looked less like a resting cat and more like a coiled spring. To be honest, Ena made Talia nervous too. She had seemed genuine when she’d made her proposal to Talia, and ever since she had seemed more relaxed than Talia had ever seen her before. And yet, Talia still felt tensed for the other shoe to fall, for her to wake up with a gun to her head or worse. 

“Just making a note,” Talia said, capping her pen. Ena stood and walked over, craning her neck to see the map Talia held. “I try to add in as many details to the guidebook map as I can. It helps me remember the places I go.” 

“You’ve been everywhere, huh?” Ena said, admiring Talia’s handiwork. She traced a border that Talia had drawn made up of a solid line dotted with small x’s-- shorthand for gang territory. 

“Not everywhere,” Talia replied. Ena brushed a piece of hair out of her face and furrowed her brow. Talia tried not to look at her or notice how close their faces were. 

“Where’d you say you were from?”

“I didn’t,” Talia said. She paused reluctantly. “...Aster. I’m from Aster.”

“That’s in the north, right? Where in Aster?” 

“Cratertown.” Ena tapped the gibbous-moon blip in the southwest corner of the Aster region. “That’s where I grew up.”

“Hm,” Ena hummed. She chewed on a rough corner of her thumbnail absently. “Was it nice?” 

“Depends on where you are in Cratertown,” Talia replied. “If you stay away from the slums and the cops, yeah, it’s fine.” 

“So, pretty much like every other city?” Ena said. 

“Essentially.” Talia cleared her throat and began folding the map back up. “Come on. We’ve got a ways to go if we want to be clear of the radiation zone before daybreak.” 

Ena stood, taking a second to stretch her legs. “I’ve traveled to a lot of places, but I’ve never been up north. What’s Aster like?” 

“Cold,” Talia replied. Cleo stood and circled around toward Ena, who gave her an affectionate pat on the flank. 

“No shit?” Ena said dryly. She studied Talia’s face. Talia wasn’t used to having the comfort of a helmet to hide her expression-- she’d borrowed Ena’s spare mask for the time being, so at least her lower face was concealed. “Hey. You know you don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m not going to stab you in the back the second you turn around. I think that ought to be clear by now.” 

“I’m not afraid of you,” Talia said, narrowing her eyes. 

“Well...good,” Ena said. She trekked past her, jumping from the edge of the tilted ship to the ground and landing in the sand, stumbling forward with the momentum of the fall. Talia watched Cleo follow, leaving long streaks in the sand where she landed, then jumped after them. 

Talia kept Ena in the corner of her eye the whole long walk to the Fingercliffs. Truth be told, she couldn’t stop watching her. The impression that she’d first made when Talia had met her was that she was angry and cunning. The ‘cunning’ part was for real-- she was small, not particularly adept at guns or fighting, but she knew when to fight and when to play it safe and get out alive. That anger had dissipated, however; or, perhaps dissipated wasn’t the right word. Ena was brimming with energy, as if she was part machine herself, powered by a battery that never stopped. Whether that energy was poured into anger, determination, joy...it didn’t matter. It all showed on her face. She wasn’t the kind of person who could give anything other than 100%. Ena had the potential to be a powerful ally. 

Talia kept her distance-- for now. But she kept Ena in the corner of her eye. Maybe because it was hard to take anyone for their word that they wouldn’t stab you in the back. Or maybe Talia was just lonely. 

Long ago, when Talia was a different person, when she still had her left eye and her dog tags, she was stationed in a valley town called Ozark. It was in the mountains, bitter cold but for the hot springs that dotted these mountain towns. It was the only reason anyone would plausibly visit Ozark to begin with. When Talia was on leave, she would usually spend her meager salary on cheap alcohol until she was good and hazy and then rent a room at one of the inns nearby and drink until she slept. Sometimes she would start the night out drinking with some of the other members of her squad, but more often than not she preferred to drink alone. She’d never been good around people until she had at least four drinks in her, and she had to be sober to be on-duty, so she hadn’t made many lasting friends in the force. 

Talia had only ever visited the hot springs once. The bar she’d been drinking at had closed, so she’d been turned out to wander the streets until she found a new place to drink. The streets had grown dark and sparse, mostly just workers returning from the late shift or headed to their graveyard shift. Talia had wandered until the street had narrowed and finally stopped. At the dead end there was a ramshackle but cozy-looking building, about three stories tall, with a neon sign that read “Calla Lily Inn and Hot Springs”. A list of prices for a soak and a night’s rest was advertised under the bright “open” sign next to the door showed an extremely reasonable price, and Talia, in her pleasant haze of about seven beers, decided to give it a try. 

The young, attractive woman tending the desk, along with the very particular imagery the name evoked, should have tipped Talia off that this particular hot springs was meant to cater to a specific kind of clientele--in the morning, she would realize that it was a cruising spot for homosexuals, a novelty common in the area-- but as it was, she only really noticed the receptionist’s dimples when she gave Talia a bright smile. Talia ordered one bath ticket and room for the night, and she was handed a bundle including a towel and complimentary robe made of thin, crepey fabric. 

Talia changed in the anteroom, a long locker room with a cracked tile floor that felt cold on the soles of Talia’s bare feet. She stowed her clothes in a small locker and shrugged on the robe, feeling a little exposed and self-conscious for a second. Thankfully, it was late enough that there wasn’t anyone getting changed here. She padded over towards the sliding door out into the cold, steamy outdoor baths area and breathed in the warm, floral smell of the air. The small pools of hot water that sat in little craters at various points on the mountain usually smelled strongly of rotten eggs, but the inn must have pumped some kind of nice-smelling oil into the water because the baths smelled fresh and floral and almost piney. 

The water was warm and inviting, and Talia sank in gratefully. She’d picked up quite a bit of bruises and aches over the past few weeks, and the water felt fantastic on her sore body. She leaned back and was almost dozing off when she heard the door open and close again behind her. Talia looked behind her just in time to see a young woman walk in. She was mid-twenties, olive-skinned, with long brown hair she was in the process of tying back behind her head. She met Talia’s gaze and blushed before looking down and dropping her robe. 

Talia saw only a glimpse of a slender shoulder before she had to look away. She felt her face grow a little warm, and hoped that, if the other woman saw it, she would blame it on the heat of the water. She heard a small splash, and cautiously glanced over to see that the woman had stepped in to the other side of the springs. 

“Good evening,” she said, nodding at Talia. 

“Good evening,” Talia said back. Her heart was racing in her chest, but the alcohol smoothed over her normal stiffness and gave her courage. 

“Just got off the late shift?” She asked Talia, sympathetically. 

“Nope. I’m off work for a few more days.” Talia smiled what she hoped was a charming smile. 

“Really? What are you doing up so late, then?” the woman asked.

Talia shrugged. “Having fun.”

“By yourself?” the woman said. 

Talia cocked an eyebrow. “Not anymore.”

Talia didn’t remember most of the rest of the night. She vaguely remembers ordering a drink to her room-- or maybe the woman’s room? They talked, then they kissed, then they were going to fuck. Talia must have blacked out, because the next thing she knew she was curled into a ball on the floor of the bathroom-- someone’s bathroom. She was wearing the crepey robe again. It was slouching off her shoulder. She puked once in the toilet, a little on herself. It was a blur. Someone knocked on the door-- what was her name? Anya? Enji? 

“You okay in there?” she said. 

Talia opened her mouth but no sound came out. She thought she was somewhere else for a second, watching as a soldier in front of her was torn apart by gunfire. She tasted blood and retched again. 

  
  


A million years and one eye later, Talia’s head began to throb. She recognized the pain and tried to ignore it. Even one beer would go down so nice right now. Or whiskey. God, she wanted to taste the burn of whiskey sliding down her throat. 

“You coming?” Ena shouted. Talia had let her get ahead of her by quite a ways while she’d been lost in thought. 

“Lot easier to walk in ankle-deep sand when you’re  _ not _ wearing body armor,” she said dryly back. 

“Well, get a move on,” Ena replied. “I think I see some lights up ahead.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	6. Daughter

At first, Ena couldn’t make out what the lights at the base of the cliffs were; for a moment, it seemed the cliffs themselves were glittering. As they approached, however, the haze of the dust cleared and arranged themselves into shapes that made sense: iron chimney pipes jutting out of rock, breathing twisting ribbons of smoke into the night air; storefronts carved from sandstone jutting out from the face of the rock itself; tin-roof apartments stacked high atop each other, windows glowing beneath tattered curtains; carved adobe-style buildings decorated with ancient carvings and statues, augmented with newer material built atop it. The little village was small, but bustling, even for this time of night. 

“Thank the gods,” Ena said. “Civilization.” She turned to face Talia, who was jogging to catch up. “Let’s stop here and recoup. Once we enter the Burning Wastes, there’s no reason to travel at night. We’ll restock our supplies and catch up on sleep in town, then head out into the Tranquil.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Talia replied, but she looked less sure than Ena felt. 

From the looks they received in the village, Ena knew they were clearly used to travelers passing through. It wasn’t a large area, but it wasn’t unfriendly, either. It was hardly well-armed or defended-- the rare lone village outside the official ‘protection’ of any local gangs or militias. It made sense to Ena, given that they were smack-dab between the Burning Wastes, a virtual no-man’s-land, and the Tranquil, which was considered neutral territory. 

“You don’t look like scavengers or nomads,” the innkeeper, a woman in her mid-50s with smile lines and a large nose, said. “...Well, I suppose you could be a scavenger. But not her,” she said, jerking her thumb at Talia. “I’d reckon you two are bounty hunters.” 

“That’s right,” Ena replied. “Is that an issue?” 

“No, no issue. Bounty hunters pay well enough.” She glanced down at Cleo, who was sitting silently next to Ena’s legs. “Can’t say I’ve seen that before, though. Is it dangerous?”

“No, not at all,” Ena lied smoothly. “She’s a navigational machine.” The innkeeper cocked her head and peered at Cleo’s lithe form. “...A very, very complicated one.”

Convinced, or perhaps just not seeming to care, the innkeeper shrugged. “One bed or two?” she asked.

“I-- ah,” Ena stuttered, caught off guard.

“Two,” Talia said, stonefaced. 

“...Two.” Ena replied. The woman smiled and handed over a key. 

“You take care now,” the innkeeper said, and turned away. 

The inn was hardly fancy. Two beds, the mattresses set directly on the floor, with a small room adjacent that only contained a chamber pot. The window outside had a view of the neighbor’s laundry line. It was better than sleeping on the ground in an abandoned chapel, though, and the next morning they could look forward to a hot meal. 

“No running water,” Ena remarked, noting the “ask desk for rainwater or waste removal site” sign next to the chamber pot. “I was looking forward to washing off all that sand.” 

“We’ll make do without it,” Talia said. She set her pack down and stretched out on the mattress closest to the window. Ena joined her, setting her things at the foot of the mattress and flopping stomach-first onto the other bed. Talia began unlatching her body armor one piece at a time, clearly relieved to have it off. 

“How’s your arm?” Ena asked, remembering the stab wound from when they first met. Talia took off her gauntlet and it fell to the floor with a dull  _ clang _ . She flexed her forearm experimentally. 

“Better,” she remarked. “Not healed fully yet, but I put some medi-gel on it a few days earlier, so it should be soon.”

“And your leg? From the glass?” 

“That was hardly a scrape. It’s probably not even bloody anymore.” Talia took off both boots, pausing to dump sand out of them. When she was done, she was just wearing a tank top and her fatigue pants. Despite being another woman, Talia was built completely differently than Ena. Ena was always a small, slight thing. Talia, on the other hand, was taller, stockier, with muscled arms and shoulders. There was something compelling about watching her move, watching the cords of muscle flex under her skin when she reached out to get a drink from her canteen. 

“What?” Talia asked. Ena realized she must have been staring and turned away, hot-faced. 

“Nothing. Just spacing out for a second.” 

“Let’s try and get some sleep. We’ll restock tomorrow.” 

“Sure,” Ena said. She turned over and closed her eyes, but her mind was racing. So much had happened between them in such a short amount of time. She’d gone from hating Talia to begrudging respect and now...they had an equal relationship now, as partners. She saved Talia’s life. Talia had saved hers, too...and sudden or not, she  _ trusted _ her. 

But she didn’t  _ know _ her. The more steps Ena felt like she took to get closer to Talia, the further away she felt. Ena could list the things she knew about Talia on one hand. One: she was a bounty hunter. Two: she was ex-military. Three: she lost her eye some time back. Four: she had white hair, despite being around the same age as Ena. Five...Ena was strangely drawn to her in a way she couldn’t put into words. She wanted to know more about Talia, but she didn’t know  _ why.  _

Cleo stepped closer to Ena, nosing at her hand with her cool, metal snout. Ena hugged Cleo close to her as Cleo hunkered down, and Ena fell asleep to the sound of Cleo’s engine thrumming softly under her fingertips. 

Morning came too soon. Ena forced herself to get up despite her aching body’s protests. Her troubled dreams evaporated as soon as she stood and stretched, feeling the burn of her muscled being stretched. She looked over towards Talia’s bed and discovered it empty, her gear gone. Just as she was about to panic, the door opened and Talia emerged. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake. C’mon, let’s get breakfast downstairs while they’re still serving it.” 

“Okay, one sec,” Ena said, scrambling to get dressed. 

“Leave Cleo,” Talia said, glancing towards the machine. “She was attracting a lot of stares yesterday. We don’t need extra attention.” 

“Sorry, girl,” Ena said, giving Cleo a reassuring pat on the head as she lay back down. 

The inn cafe was offering a choice of an egg on rice or porridge and a plum for breakfast. Ena chose the latter and was disappointed with the bland lumpiness of the porridge. She was hungry, though, so she tried to eat quickly so as not to let the taste linger in her mouth. Before she’d made it even halfway through, though, Talia had already scarfed down the whole bowl of rice, slurping the fried egg noisily down with it. 

“You’re...a pretty fast eater, huh?” Ena said, choking down a lumpy mouthful. 

“Hm?” Talia swallowed and wiped a strand of yolk from the side of her mouth a little self-consciously. “Oh, yeah, I guess. Force of habit.”

“What d’you mean?” 

“Short eating breaks in the military,” Talia explained. “Before that…”

“Before that?” Ena prodded. Talia looked like she was going to clam up again, but after a short pause, she looked away and answered:

“Before that I was raised in an orphanage. You had to eat fast, or the other kids would go in for seconds before you had your first helping.” 

“An orphan, huh?” Ena said. She tried to imagine living as a child without parents, and couldn’t. 

“It’s fine,” Talia said hastily. “The nuns were strict, but they took care of us. It probably wasn’t as bad as you’re imagining.” 

“I didn’t take you for the religious type,” Ena said. 

“I’m not, not really. I...usually fell asleep in religious studies classes.” Ena laughed, mostly out of pure surprise. “What?”

“I just can’t picture it!” Ena said, dissolving into giggles again. To her surprise, Talia looked at her with wide eyes and smiled, stifling a chuckle. 

“Well, they were boring. Never understood a second of it.” Talia shook her head and then shrugged. “What about you? Got any family?”

Ena stopped laughing. “I...they’re alive. I don’t know if they consider me their kid anymore.”

“...Oh.” Talia looked awkward. “That’s-- I’m--”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Ena said. “I don’t really consider them my parents.” 

“Can I ask what…”

“I stabbed a pedophile in the testicles,” Ena said bluntly. “With a pair of scissors.”

The silence that fell over the table was immediate, the tension palpable. 

“That’s a very good reason to stab someone in the testicles,” Talia said finally. “And they exiled you for that?” 

“...Kind of. I was still young, so they could have been let off easy. Maybe put up with a year or so of being shunned.” Ena’s fists clenched under the table. She didn’t want to talk about it. She  _ never  _ talked about it. Why was she still talking? “They held a tribune the next day, asked me to repent publicly. I refused.” 

“That’s...that’s awful.” Talia looked away. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.” 

“I never regretted it.” Ena said.

“Never?” Talia asked. Ena met her eyes. 

“Never.” 

Talia made a noise halfway between a sigh and a humorless laugh. “I envy your conviction. I can’t think of a single decision I’ve made that I didn’t regret.” 

The marketplace coiled around the valley floor, up one side of the canyon wall via rickety metal elevator and wound its way across one side of the canyon. The boarded-up pathways were haphazard and didn’t have guardrails; if Talia noticed that Ena wouldn’t go within ten feet of the edge, she stayed mercifully silent. Talia was awfully quiet, but Ena didn’t mind that. She seemed to steer clear of any large crowds, and Ena didn’t mention that, either. Despite Talia’s steely demeanor, Ena sensed somehow that Talia was less confident in society than in the wilds. She chalked it up to Talia being not much of a people person. Maybe that was why she was so standoffish now that they had a functioning partnership. She just didn’t know how to interact with someone when the terms of their relationship were so ambiguous or abstract. 

“What kind of ammo does your pistol use?” Talia asked as they browsed one of two weapons shops in town. 

Ena pointed to the display behind the counter. “22 mm. You?”

“44,” Talia replied, scanning the shelves. “I see 22 mm ammo, but no ammo compatible with the kind of rifle I carry.” 

“Maybe they have some next door?” Ena suggested. 

“Maybe. I’ll go check.” Talia turned and left the shop as Ena checked out. 

The pathways outside the shop were busy, considering how small the village appeared from the outside. In reality, Ena had realized midway through their excursion that there were far more people here than she originally had thought; the village stretched not just across the canyon walls, but  _ into _ the canyon walls themselves. The carved tunnels had to be ancient, or maybe they were originally warrens dug for some large tunneling creature to hide away in, but at any rate large sections of the town were nigh-invisible to discern from the outside. Useful, Ena thought, in the case of seeking shelter from attack or sandstorms. She passed a tunnel of that kind now as she left the weapons shop to look for Talia, and she couldn’t help but peer down into its cool shade to watch the flickering oil lamps of the merchants, their yells advertising everything from clothes to pottery to fried desert beetle on a stick echoing endlessly on the walls of the caverns. 

Just as she was about to pass the tunnel by, something caught her eye. It was a familiar sight to someone from her professional background-- a large, centrally-located board with paper notices and more official-looking holostamps alike posted up onto it. It was a bounty board, posted near the tunnel’s entrance. Out of a mixture of habit and vague curiosity, Ena approached it. It was relatively bare compared to more metropolitan locations across the Roguelands, but there were a fair bit of jobs tacked up. The ones that looked as though they’d been there the longest were vague: ‘competent fighter needed. 54,000 chits.’ ‘escort wanted, military background preferred. 42,500.’ Neither payed very well, and both were far too sketchy for any self-respecting hunter to take up. Only the inexperienced or desperate would take those, if at all. There were a few good postings up, though-- some calls to accompany trade caravans into the Tranquil, mostly. And then there was the ‘wanted’ section, the bread and butter of any bounty hunter or traveling mercenary. In this case, most were local; Ena hadn’t recognized the faces on this board at any other board in the area. Most likely they had stirred up trouble while passing through, or were locals that skipped town to avoid jail time or worse. 

There, in the corner, a holostamp flickered. Ena glanced towards it. It took a moment for her to realize that the face projected by the glimmering holostamp was familiar, mostly because part of it was obscured by a bandage wrapped around the left eye of the woman staring out from the screen. But that remaining eye-- deep and intense, that seemed to stare right into you-- there was no mistaking the face of Talia Ataxi. Her hair was much shorter, shaved close to her head, and the aforementioned bandage obscured most of her forehead and her left eye. The picture wasn’t the best quality, either, probably taken from a security camera and cropped to just her face. The price on her head wasn’t anything to sneeze at, either-- 150,00 chits, dead or alive. Ena’s heart raced. She scanned the listing to see who had put out the hit. There, at the bottom, was the geometric stamp of a stylized heart organ pierced with three arrows, the telltale mark of House Sanguis. Ena felt her breath catch in her throat. What had Talia done to piss off those organ-stealing freaks? Glancing around to make sure that she wasn’t being watched, Ena leaned close and dug her fingernails under the small, diamond-shaped holostamp projector and snapped it clean off the board, powering it off and slipping it into her pack before anyone could see. The last thing they needed right now was anyone recognizing her and pursuing them. 

“Ena?” Ena whipped around, trying not to look guilty. Talia stood just a few feet behind. “Isn’t the job you’re on now hard enough for you? You don’t need another to worry about before this one is even finished.” 

“I was just curious,” Ena said as honestly as she could. “Besides, not a bad idea to think ahead.” 

“If you say so,” Talia said, shrugging. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

“About what?”

“The job.” Talia replied, then lowered her voice. “You don’t think it’s strange, encountering this many other bounty hunters after the same job?” 

“That had occurred to me, actually,” Ena said, beginning to walk. Talia kept up next to her. “Were you told what exactly it is we’re getting?”

“Just some hard drive, right? Like a chip or something?” Talia said. 

“Sure, but what does it  _ do? _ ” 

Talia shrugged. “I didn’t think it was unusual for them to get vague on specifics. Sometimes that’s best.”

“I didn’t think so either, but...the more people we find also after this thing, the more I think it’s important.”

“Well, you’re good with tech, right?” Talia said. “Maybe you can figure it out once we get it.” 

“ _ If _ we get it,” Ena pointed out.

“If,” Talia agreed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	7. the Tranquil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for descriptions of death and gore, starting from "Talia approached cautiously..." until "...She straightened up." You can control+F the latter phrase to skip if that's not your cup of tea. 
> 
> From here on out I think the chapters will generally be longer and the plot will move along quite a bit more quickly, so strap in! So long, slow burn, let's drop a brick on the gas pedal and go hogwild.

For the first time in weeks of travel, Talia woke to birdsong. 

It was strange readjusting to the lush forests and daylight of the Tranquil after spending so long travelling by night in the Burning Wastes. It was easier to get lost, but also much easier forage for supplies in the event they ran out of food. It was easier to get ambushed, but the cover of trees and thick foliage all around them was a comfort that made them feel far less exposed. Talia stretched and rolled her stiff neck around on her shoulders before getting up. The dull embers of last nights’ campfire were still smoldering, and Ena was curled up next to a log, twitching and muttering in her sleep. The sun was still low over the horizon, and the morning was still comfortably cool. Despite this, Talia did not feel at ease. The craving for a drink was back, and they felt so bad it almost ached. A headache had begun to throb just behind her eyes and she breathed deep and pushed it back out between her teeth to try and soothe her mind. Talia reached over, hand shaking a little, and opened her bag to reveal the glass neck of a bottle jutting out from between her supplies. The general store she’d found while looking for rifle ammo had bottles of mezcal and tequila in a cabinet behind the counter-- she’d found herself saying the words “whichever has the highest proof” and counting out chits to scan in for the alcohol. She’d justified it, at the time; something along the lines of “medical necessity” in case the gel ran out. As Talia had set out that afternoon across the last stretch of canyon and scrubland before the Tranquil, the weight of the bottle in her pack seemed to grow heavier and heavier. 

Ena stirred behind her, and Talia quickly flipped the backpack closed. 

“‘Morning,” Ena said, and yawned. 

Talia looked over to where Ena was now sat up, bedhead spilling out from her usual tied-back style and sticking straight up on one side. Talia would have to find someplace to ditch the bottle later, or pour it out. She didn’t like the thought of wasting it, but explaining the situation to Ena wasn’t an option. They may be on good terms as of right now, but any sign of weakness would leave Talia open to being abandoned, and Talia wasn’t confident she could carry out the mission alone, not with so many others after the same target. 

“You look like you slept well,” Talia said. 

“You don’t. You look awful,” Ena said bluntly. Talia winced a little; she hadn’t meant to be rude-- Talia was quickly learning that Ena was both painfully direct and completely useless at polite conversation. But, in this case, she was right.

“Just paranoid from sleeping out in the open,” Talia said, which was at least partly true. “But good news. There should be a military station about two days’ walk from here. We can rest there overnight.” 

“Whoa, what? But won’t there be...you know,  _ military _ occupying a military station?” Ena asked. 

“Nah, it’s been abandoned for a few years,” Talia said. “Drexian military tried to occupy some southern parts of the Tranquil, but pulled forces to focus on northern border disputes a few years back. It’s not much, but I’ll bet there’s beds and running water. It’s hard to find, and harder to get in, but thankfully I’ve stopped in similar stations before when passing through. I’ve got the coordinates of all the stations in the area written down in my guidebook.” 

“Beds  _ and _ running water?” Ena chuckled. “Pfft, that’s all you needed to say.” 

“Then let’s head out soon,” Talia said. “The faster we get moving, the better.” 

“I’m moving, I’m moving,” Ena replied, shifting to pull on her boots. 

The foliage underfoot thinned somewhat as they walked. The trees stretched far up into the air, providing cover, but not claustrophobia. The shade was pleasant enough to walk in, even if the air was stickier than in the desert. 

“Feels like rain,” Ena said. 

“What makes you say that?” Talia asked, looking up at the thick, fluffy clouds dotting the sky.

“My leg always gets achy beforehand,” Ena said, rubbing at the spot where her thigh connected to her prosthetic, “And the air feels heavier than yesterday.”

“I think it might be the rainy season here,” Talia replied. “But I’m not sure. It’s been a long time since I passed through.”

“When were you last here?” Ena asked.

“Hm...maybe five years ago? Four? I was here for a week before they pulled out, though. I was reassigned almost immediately.” 

Ena shrugged. “Well, I’ve never been here. Our caravans usually kept to the east.” 

“I assumed the Ectari travelled all over,” Talia said.

“Depends. Most tribes have their own designated paths they travel. My parents’ tribe never strayed far from the Red Steppe.” 

Talia noted, silently, the choice of words. ‘My parents’ tribe’, not ‘my tribe’ or ‘our tribe’. There was a pain behind it that Talia couldn’t touch. She had never had somewhere that felt like home to leave. Talia had been exiled, had had a home and had it taken away from her by people who were supposed to love her unconditionally. Loneliness was one kind of hurt-- bereavement was a different animal.  _ ‘I never regretted it,’  _ Ena had said. The look in her eyes when she said it was one of fire. She was strong-willed, far more so than Talia would ever be. The weight of her pack seemed to grow heavier.

“Hold on,” Talia said, noticing something off to the side. It was a plant, sprouting close to the base of a tree, with heart-shaped leaves that turned a pale yellow around the edges. Talia squatted close and examined it, lifting a leaf delicately to examine the base of the stem. 

“What is it?” Ena said, approaching with Cleo. 

“A Cailia plant,” Talia said. “They grow wild around here. If it’s in season--” She gripped the plant by its stem tightly and pulled. The plant gave way, revealing a dark reddish-brown bulb about the size of Talia’s fist. “--there. It’s small, but should be good to eat. It’s kind of a cross between a potato and a radish in taste.” 

“Whoa, nice find!” Ena said. “Give it here, I’ll put it in my pack.” 

“One sec,” Talia said, and took a small knife from her belt, slicing off a small root that sprouted from the side and placing it in the hole she’d made by uprooting the plant. “This way, a new one will grow in its place. If we’re lucky. Leave something for the next people who pass through.” 

“You know a lot about this kind of stuff,” Ena said, taking the rest of the Cailia root and tucking it in her pack. “Did the military teach you that, too?” 

“No.” Talia straightened up, wiping the dirt off on her palms. “I just...like plants.” 

“You missed your calling as a botanist,” Ena replied. 

“...Yeah,” Talia said. “Come on, let’s get going.” 

There was a book back at the orphanage that Talia had read and reread so many times that she could still recite pages from memory despite it being years since she’d laid eyes on it. It was an old book that had been treated roughly by the other children; the spine was stripped naked, laying bare the binding and flaking glue. The cover, once an olive green, was not a dusty, green-tinged grey. The title was only partially legible on the front: what once read “Hurst’s Encyclopedia of Plants and Flowers” now only read “--’S --pedia of --nts.” Thankfully the rough cover had protected its contents, beautiful illustrations of every conceivable kind of tree and flower and fruit and vegetable and weed next to detailed descriptions of each. Other children mostly used it as a weight to hold down blanket forts, or sometimes as a footstool. Talia, on the other hand, hid it away under her mattress and took it out every chance she got to read and reread its pages. She was enraptured by it. The orphanage and the surrounding area was covered in brick and concrete and wire; the illustrations of lush forest and wild plants seemed like a beautiful, alien world to her, reachable only in the little corners of the orphanage that slowly she uncovered: a scraggly bit of bantham grass growing up through a crack in the concrete covering the courtyard, a painting in the bathroom of vivid red Palla’s Grace flowers, a potted miniature redbarrel cactus on the math teacher’s desk, and once, some bluevine creeping up the side of a wall next to the grocery store down the block. 

It wasn’t enough. Talia read and reread Hurst’s Encyclopedia until she could see the pages written on the backs of her eyelids. She wanted to know more than just what plants were out there, she wanted to get out and see them, study them, watch how they grew. Botany, however, was only taught in universities. In order to enroll, Talia had to be a citizen-- meaning six years of military service, same as anyone living under the Republic’s banner. When she’d enrolled, it had meant learning how to one day study how to grow crops more efficiently and feed more people, how to grow medicine, how to preserve local ecosystems and keep them balanced. Instead, she was taught how to take a life in service of an empire built on death and suffering. 

When Talia’s contract was up she was too broken to go to university. 

As the afternoon wore into early evening, Cleo became less stoic and more...fidgety. At first it wasn’t noticeable. Maybe her head twitched a little strangely, as though the machine was trying to hear something off in the distance. Still, Talia figured she was old and glitchy, and though it was unnerving it didn’t mean anything more than that, so she opted to just not look at Cleo whenever possible. It wasn’t until later, while they were taking a detour down a walking path, that Cleo began to make a chirping, shrill alarm noise. 

“What the hell?” Ena said, startled. She whipped around to look at Cleo.

“Why is she doing that?” Talia asked, flinching and covering her ears at the noise.

“I dunno!” Ena knelt next to her and placed her hands on Cleo’s head. “It’s some kind of warning system, I think. The data’s all scrambled, I can’t tell what activated it.” 

“Well, can you de-activate it? If there’s trouble, I don’t want it finding us before we find it.”

“Gimme a sec…” Ena ran her fingers from the top of Cleo’s head down the back of her spine, opened a panel, and flipped a switch. “There.” Cleo stopped chirping, abruptly shutting her jaw with a  _ clang. _

“Warning system, huh?” Talia said. She closed her good eye and brought her hand up to her bionic one. Carefully, she pulled her eyelid down with one finger and rotated a small dial that circled her iris, shifting the focus into infrared. The world around her bloomed into vivid color, blues and greens and yellows. Ena looked like a haze of red and yellow and pink so bright it made Talia dizzy, and Cleo was a clear blue with a pulsing red core of heat. Talia cast her gaze around them, not knowing what she was looking for until she saw it. “There,” she said, pointing. “What’s that?” 

“Just some mud and dead leaves,” Ena said, stepping forward to examine the spot. 

“Wait,” Talia said, throwing out an arm to stop her. She picked up a nearby rock-- a lump of dark blue in her infrared vision-- and tossed it towards the pile. Metal jaws snapped around it, strong enough to crack the rock down the middle. 

“Shit,” Ena breathed beside her. Talia switched back into normal vision, already feeling the beginning throbs of a headache behind her temples. “Good catch.” Cleo trotted forward and Talia patted her on the flank appreciatively. 

“Good...metal cat...thing.” Cleo looked up at her with all four eyes and emitted a sound that sounded like steam hissing. Talia accepted that as acknowledgement and turned to face Ena, who was examining the trap. 

“This thing was well hidden,” she said. “Look, someone painted the metal to blend in to the ground around it.” 

“Could’ve taken off your good leg,” Talia remarked. 

“Or one of yours,” Ena agreed. “But-- look at this.” Ena beckoned Talia forward and gestured to the pressure mechanism as she spoke. “I don’t know how familiar you are with trapping, but I have a lot of experience with it. I’ve never seen a design this...archaic.”

“So it was left a long time ago? No, it wouldn’t have been left unsprung for that long. Maybe someone found it in some ruins or something, used it for hunting?” 

“That’s the thing. The  _ design _ is archaic-- even the manufacturing, look, this is hammered iron-- but the metal itself looks new. No rust, no dents, not even a scratch on it.” 

“What does that mean?” Talia said. 

“I...don’t know,” Ena replied. “I guess just...keep an eye out. Just in case.” 

“Maybe let’s let Cleo walk in front,” Talia agreed.

It wasn’t long before Cleo started acting up again, this time crouching low to the ground and refusing to walk any further, making a grinding noise deep in her chest. 

“Talia?” Ena said, her voice dropped to a whisper. 

“Got it.” She slid into infrared and scanned their surroundings. “There’s traps up ahead. Follow right on my tail. And keep a hand on Cleo.” 

“Okay,” Ena whispered. They crept forward, together, no sounds between them except birdsong and the rustling of trees in the wind. There were four traps in total, each almost directly in the middle of the makeshift foot path. Together, they edged around the first, then the second. As they were making their way past the third trap, Talia could see something...off. The trap was sprung. 

“It caught someone,” Talia whispered. And it definitely was some _ one-- _ the trap was obscured by a bend in the trail and some undergrowth, cleverly placed to capture anyone careless enough not to check before rounding the corner. As she switched off her infrared Talia saw a dark puddle leaking from behind the undergrowth, in the midst of which was a human hand outstretched. 

“Are they alive?” Ena asked. 

“No,” Talia said. “Heat signature is cold. They’ve been here a while.” Still, Talia approached cautiously. The stench of rotting flesh hit them before the sight of the body. A man in his twenties, maybe thirties, with the trap snapped around his shin. The skin was peeled away by rot and bugs, and it was apparent that the force from the metal jaws had snapped the splintering bone. Talia’s eyes were drawn to his fingernails for some reason; they were chipped and bloody from clawing at the trap’s jaws in blind terror before the man had attempted to drag himself to safety. If he was lucky, he would have died of shock before he bled out. His eyes were already gone in his gaunt, half-decayed face. His last moments were ones of panic and sheer abject terror, splayed out in grotesque detail before them like a tapestry.

Ena held back a wretch beside her, taking a step backward in horror. Talia bent to examine his clothes, trying not to breathe in the smell. His clothes were worn and plain, and he didn’t have much equipment. Not gear suited to an explorer or another bounty hunter. The muscles that were left intact were corded and wiry, and he didn’t have much fat on him-- he was a laborer of some kind, and not a well-fed one. Of particular interest was a mark on his hand, just barely visible beneath the blood and rot. It didn’t look like a tattoo, and resembled a shield with figures decorating the inside, but Talia could not make out any details. 

She straightened up. “Nothing we can salvage from him. He wasn’t carrying anything, or if he was, it was taken by someone else.” 

“Fuck,” Ena breathed. “What a way to go.” 

“Hopefeully he passed out before he died of blood loss,” Talia said. Ena turned to her with an expression of horror and disgust. “...Probably. I mean, I wouldn’t want to suffer, if it was me.” 

“Let’s move on,” Ena said, averting her eyes. “Let’s stay low. All this is too recent for comfort.” 

“Agreed,” Talia said.

The mood had lightened considerably once they decided to stop and camp for the night. Cleo had calmed down with no sign of detecting any traps, and Talia and Ena had begun to make light conversation over dinner with the unspoken understanding of taking each others’ minds off the body. 

“It makes me wonder what she was built for,” Ena said, watching Cleo calmly sitting next to the fallen log they’d taken to sitting atop as they watched the rice and sliced Cailia root simmer atop the fire.

“Combat, most likely,” Talia said, eyeing her powerful jaws. 

“Sure, but she’s not exactly a tank, right?”

“She doesn’t look built for the front lines, but maybe reconnaissance, spying, getting behind enemy lines and deactivating minefields and traps,” Talia mused. 

“Probably as good an answer as we’re gonna get.” Ena replied.

“Can’t you just...put your hand on her and read her programming?” Talia asked.

Ena shook her head. “Doesn’t work like that. I can intuit a lot of her functions, but it’s like trying to interpret a painting. I can  _ see _ all of it, but I might not guess exactly what everything is for. You know?”

“Makes sense,” Talia lied. In all honesty the most complicated machine she could operate was her gun. She’d never even considered thinking about technology the way Ena talked about it, like it was alive, like it was alive or a piece of art rather than a lump of metal used to fulfill a specific purpose. 

Ena, deciding that the stew was done, took it off the fire and ladled a portion into a bowl, handing it to Talia. She accepted it and began scarfing it down. The stew was hearty, thickened by the starch of the rice and vegetables, and the root had been cooked until it was perfectly tender. Talia bolted down a mouthful, cursing as she scalded her tongue. 

“I  _ just _ took it off the fire, no need to gulp it all down so quick,” Ena scolded. Talia grunted impatiently, but obeyed silently, taking just a small spoonful and blowing on it dutifully to cool it. 

“It’s good,” she said, after taking a painstakingly measured bite. It was hearty and thickened by the starch of the rice and vegetables, and the Cailia root was cooked until tender, the slight tangy bite of the root permeating the stew. The warmth of the dish settled in her stomach and warmed her from the inside out, a luxury after a long day of walking through the woods. 

“Thanks again for the find,” Ena said. “Really breaks the monotony of just plain old rice and surplus rations.” 

“No problem. Thanks for cooking it up.” A rustle behind them, and Talia jerked her head to face the noise. A bird alighted sloppily from a branch, flying off into the night and Talia breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Gods, you’re pretty jumpy, huh?” Ena said. 

“Of course,” Talia snapped. “We’re in danger here. Don’t forget that.” 

“I know, I just meant--” Ena sighed. “--I’m watching your back, too, you know.” She gave Talia a little half-smile. “We’re in this together.” 

Talia loosened a little, taking a deep breath. “You’re right.” She settled back onto her spot on the log and took another spoonful of stew. “Um. Thank you. I don’t know if I actually told you that yet.” 

Ena smiled softly, her face illuminated in the glow of the campfire. “You’re right, though. We are in danger here.” She stirred the stew absently. “Those traps from earlier have me worried some faction has moved in here, trying to stake a claim on the territory. We should be careful.” 

“How about we sleep in shifts tonight?” Talia said. 

“Good idea,” Ena said. “I can take first watch if you want. I’m all right staying up a little longer.” 

Talia wanted to argue, but the day’s exhaustion won over and she found herself nodding. “Wake me if you think you see anything, if you hear anything, even if you get a bad feeling--”

“I will. Hey, don’t worry, I’ve got Cleo here too,” Ena said, grabbing the machine around its neck playfully. “Maybe I’ll try and screw around with her programming, try and figure out if I can set her up to patrol on a perimeter.” 

Talia considered taking off some of her armor as she prepped her bedroll. Last night at the village inn was nice, sleeping unencumbered for a change. She decided to only take off her boots and gauntlets, leaving the rest on for now, and keeping her rifle within arm’s reach. 

‘’Night,” she called out to Ena. 

“Yeah, ‘night,” Ena said back. 

Talia remembered thinking how hard it would be to fall asleep with Ena and Cleo still looming over her, but when Ena’s hand touched her shoulder hours later, she couldn’t remember falling asleep to begin with. And yet, it must have been hours, because the fire had burnt down to ashes and Talia was surprisingly well-rested. 

“Man, you’re a light sleeper,” Ena said. “Your shift’s up.” She rubbed her race, stifling a yawn. “Cleo’s on patrol. She’ll circle back around every five minutes or so.” 

“All right,” Talia said. “Go get some sleep.” 

Ena nodded and walked a few feet to the side, practically collapsing into her bedroll. By the time Talia had laced her boots, she could hear faint snores coming from the other side of the campfire. 

Talia shouldered her rifle and stretched her legs. In the process, she stumbled, nearly falling face-first into the dirt. She looked down. Ena’s pack was in her path, splayed open by the force of the kick. Talia stooped and shoveled supplies haphazardly back into it-- a small utility knife, canteen and water purifier-- 

\--Talia’s hand stopped as she grabbed the bounty holocube. This wasn’t the one for the bounty they were both after. It was smaller, painted in a familiar red. Her heart stopped in her chest as she switched it on. There in the darkness she saw her own face, glowing, projected, into the night air. Talia Ataxi, 150,000 chits, dead or alive, by order of House Sanguis. 

Talia dropped the holocube. “No,” she whispered. The night was silent in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually did an illustration for this chapter that you can find at my tumblr, bear-arts-blog.tumblr.com! I'll post a link below. Also on my blog are illustrations of Ena and Talia. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> https://bear-arts-blog.tumblr.com/post/624063690004709376/you-know-a-lot-about-this-kind-of-stuff-ena


	8. Heretic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for mentions of slavery, kidnapping, mentions of religious extremism throughout, and a brief bit of ableism near the end.

**Chapter 8**

_ Blue light pours from the high, arched windows around you. Behind the window panes, the palatial towers of the complex stretched into the distance, white spires with ornate turquoise and navy mosaic decorations swirling along their rooftops. As you pass the windows, you hear voices ahead and lower your eyes, keen to keep your gaze on the ground. Hecatomb are not supposed to raise their gazes to the Calypsi, the higher-class, the citizenry. The women laugh to each other as they pass. You shrivel away, instinctively, against the wall, pressing your basket of laundry as close as you can to your body as they pass, and let out a sigh of relief once they’re gone. You miss life in the lower ring of the Citadel. You are used to living like this, as a second-class citizen, but there are so many Calypsi in the upper ring and there are so many rules you have to follow when you’re among them. Do not speak, unless addressed directly. No making eye contact unless commanded. If your job requires you to touch them, wash your hands before and after. No eating the food the Calypsi eat, sleeping where they can see, sitting when they are standing. You are not equals, you are not even beneath them-- in the presence of the Calypsi, you are a non-person.  _

_ “Jezra Heca-Jone?” You stop at the mention of your name. You didn’t hear the man approach, but you recognize his voice. It belongs to one of the Citadel’s Archon, Ephraim Cal-Mann.  _

_ “Archon,” you say, bowing deep.  _

_ “Rise. You may meet my gaze,” the Archon says. You do so. The Archon is dressed in the ceremonial robes of the magistrate, and his expression is kind, but you can’t help but shiver as you meet his eyes. Their irises are a shimmering neon aqua, glowing like embers in his face, the implant scars still pink lines across his temples. They crease and zigzag as he smiles. “You have been selected for extraction, my child. Your day has finally come.”  _

_ You drop the basket of laundry on the floor in shock.  _

Ena woke suddenly, the dream evaporating in the morning air. She struggled to remember what she had dreamed about, but it slipped through her fingers like so much morning mist, leaving her with a strange feeling lingering in her chest that she felt was not her own. 

Dreams like this would often happen a few days or so after she communicated with a new piece of technology. She never remembered them afterwards. The Ectari called it  _ “na’am kalal”--  _ a term that her mother had said meant something like an echo, although the literal meaning meant a ripple in a still pond. A side effect of connecting to any qualathine-powered machine, some lingering memory trapped in all the wires and data that they unlocked when their technopathy kicked in. 

Ena stretched, trying to shake off the strange feeling and wake up the muscles in her arms and legs. She was sore, from a million things, probably, but most certainly from the days and days of walking and fighting and rough sleeping. She would look forward to sleeping in a real bed tonight down at the fort, or at the very least a cot and a warm shower. She was beginning to be able to smell herself, and the smells generally weren’t good. 

She felt a little nudge on her calf and looked down to see Cleo had noticed she was awake and was nuzzling her leg. 

“Hey, g’morning to you, too,” she said, and gave her an affectionate tap on the nose. Ena turned over and was surprised to see Talia at the other end of the camp, sitting atop the fallen log, staring at her. “...Good morning. Damn, were you watching me all night like that?”

“Morning,” Talia replied, and something in her voice was so much colder than the night before, colder even than when she was still keeping Ena as a virtual hostage.  _ “Move and I’ll shoot”-- _ those were the first words Talia had uttered to Ena, what seemed like years ago now. She had seemed like a different person then. It seemed as though that Talia had returned just now. 

“Is everything okay?” Ena said. “You seem--”

“Just want to move on,” Talia said brusquely, cutting her off mid-sentence. She rose from her spot on the log and turned away. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

They traveled in silence, Cleo first, then Ena, then Talia, with Talia giving directions every now and then. It was strange-- just yesterday they had walked side-by-side, talking about anything on their minds or just walking in a comfortable silence. Now it seemed for some reason that Talia wouldn’t let Ena fall behind her under any circumstance and stayed silent as a gravestone. Everytime Ena glanced back, Talia was watching her, eyes fixed like a tiger stalking prey. Even when she was faced forward, Ena could swear she could feel those eyes burning a hole into her back. 

After about three or four hours of walking in tense silence, Ena spoke up. 

“Talia, is there something you want to talk about?” she asked, stopping in the middle of the trail and turning to face her. Talia looked surprised before her face reverted back to stony and unreadable. “If you’re not going to talk about what’s bothering you, just talk about  _ some _ thing. I’m bored out of my mind up here.”

“Don’t want to talk,” Talia said, and looked away. 

“Then at least walk with me?” Ena asked. Talia didn’t answer. “Ugh, of all the-- what is going  _ on _ with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit! We were doing  _ fine _ yesterday. I thought we were even…” Ena trailed off. Becoming friends? It felt childish to say aloud. Her cheeks burned. “...I thought you--”

“Ena,” Talia said. Ena looked up to see that Talia had taken a step towards her. 

“What?” Ena snapped. Her first instinct was to recoil. Talia still had those eyes, the calculating, unflinching gaze of a predator. But she stubbornly stood her ground. Ena wasn’t scared of her. She wasn’t. So why did her heart pound in her chest as Talia’s eyes held hers?

Suddenly, Talia’s eyes flicked past hers, onto something behind her. Talia suddenly sprung, tackling Ena to the ground, pulling her off the trail and down a short cliff. They tumbled together down the side, Talia landing atop of Ena and pulling her up and against her chestplate, one hand wrapped tight across her chest, the other clamped around her mouth, muffling any sound. Ena struggled and thrashed against her iron grip, panicked and desperate. 

“Quiet,” Talia hissed, and Ena’s blood ran cold. She fell still obediently and instinctively at Talia’s command. Her heart roared in her ears and she shut her eyes. For a moment, all she could feel was Talia’s hot breath on the nape of her neck, slow and even despite it all. 

Then, voices. Vague and muffled at first, then clearer and close, so close they must have been directly above where Talia and Ena lay hidden just off the path. 

“--found the campsite last night. The knight-commander was right. Someone is moving through this area.”

“You’re sure it’s them? Could be some travelers or some such in the area.” 

“I suppose it could be. Seems there’s only two sets of footprints.” 

“Aren’t there three runaways?”

“Two. We found one of the slaves caught in one of the traps we laid.” 

“Alive?”

“Dead.” 

Ena felt a hot flare of anger rise in her chest. Slavers. Either traders or a part of a larger group. She felt Talia tense around her, too. Ena had heard whispers of slavers here and there, but most civilized places banned the practice and even her caravan refused to travel with traders known to traffic slaves. She had never even seen one in the flesh until three years after her exile. 

She was traveling alone and had ended up in an inn in the mountains, tired and sore from her last bounty, with not enough money in her purse to justify her aching body. They must have seen her eating alone at the inn and assumed she was an easy target, a teenager traveling alone, maybe a runaway with no connections. She had noticed them in the corner-- two men, whispering to themselves, one dark-haired, one with a scar across his cheek-- but she’d assumed they were just normal merchants. 

When she had gotten up to clear her table, they were gone, and she forgot about them immediately. In order to get from Ena’s room to the tavern on the ground floor, she had to go outside and around the back to climb a set of stairs that led up to her room. It was dark. She was tired. It was easy for the two men to ambush her from a dark alcove on the way up to her room. She tried in vain to struggle to get away, but the one holding her was far too powerful and after a few seconds of thrashing, she passed out, courtesy of the arm around her neck. When she woke a few minutes later, she was being loaded into the back of a wagon. She feigned unconsciousness long enough for her body to be tossed like a sack of grain onto the floor; they had taken her pack and weapons, but neglected to notice her leg was not flesh and blood and had left it unremoved. In the space that it took to drop her and start closing the door, Ena set on them like a rabid dog, breaking the dark-haired man’s nose under the hard steel of her kneecap. He reeled back, falling backwards and spilling blood onto the white snow underneath. The scar-faced man struggled to unholster his pistol, but Ena lashed at him with the hidden blade in her leg, taking off two fingers and leaving his ring finger dangling from his hand. The men panicked-- they were still within earshot of the inn, and knowing they would be caught and hanged if it was known they were traffickers, decided to cut and run. They sped off, leaving the doors of the wagon open and clanging against the sides of the door. 

As Ena lifted her throbbing head to look helplessly as the wagon retreated, she caught the eyes of another girl bound and chained to the inside of the wagon as it drove off. In them was a look so hopeless, so afraid and defeated, Ena wouldn’t get it out of her mind. As she lay petrified in her bed, pistol and knife clutched close to her, door locked and barricaded in fear they would return for her, she remembered those terrified eyes. Years later, the name of the town and the inn and the faces of her attackers blurred, but those eyes remained. They could have so easily been hers. 

Ena’s body moved before her mind was able to register what she was doing, bolting out from the embankment and drawing her pistol in one smooth motion, wrenching herself from Talia’s arms. 

“Over there!” One of the men said, and the sudden noise was enough for Ena to take aim and fire up through the trees. 

“Ena!” Talia shouted, her voice hoarse and angry.

“It’s a heretic-- she’s got a gun!” One of the men said. Ena could see them through the trees and she charged forward. She didn’t have much time to close in on them before they drew their weapons. She fired three more times in rapid succession, the bark on a nearby tree splintering as it caught a stray bullet. Ena was nearly on top of them now, and she could see blood-- she’d hit one, at least. The men’s faces looked unassuming, but they were wearing strange, patchwork armor and archaic clothing-- plated metal over their shoulders and knees, with a chainmail shirt under their plain woven tunics and trousers. The armor looked scavenged and repurposed from a vehicle, perhaps, or stripped from a building. Ena noticed right away they didn’t carry firearms, a strange occurrence out here far from any “safe” zones. 

_ If they don’t have anything long-range, I better keep my distance, _ Ena thought.  _ It’s a two-on-one fight, and I have the edge if I keep far enough away. _

“Filthy degenerate shot me!” the left one, a scraggly-looking man with a beard, bellowed. 

“You’ll pay for this!” The second, a burlier one with a scar across his cheek, said, and drew a bow from behind him. Ena ducked into a roll before he had time to let an arrow fly, then fired again from her position on the ground. The clear line of sight meant the bullet caught the burly one in the leg, and he cried out and fell to one knee. Ena turned to fire once more on the other man, but as she pulled the trigger she felt it seize as the bullet jammed in the chamber.  _ Shit. _

The man let out a yell as he drew a short sword from his side, swinging it in an arc towards Ena, who rolled out of the way just in time. She felt the vibrations on the ground next to her where the blade struck.  _ Too close. Way too close.  _

“Has your weapon failed you already, degenerate?” The man said, drawing back his sword for another blow. “Then die for your heresy.” He swung, and again Ena tried to roll out of the way, but this time she was just a little too slow. The blade again struck the ground, this time pinning the strap of Ena’s pack to the ground as she struggled desperately to run. The man delivered a sharp kick to Ena’s side, and she fought back the urge to vomit as pain exploded from her flank. No doubt those boots were steel-toed. She surged forward as he prepared to strike her again, tearing the strap of her pack and leaving it behind. She turned to face him once more as he unstuck his sword and started swinging it towards her again as her mind raced. Her machete was in the pack. Her pistol was still jammed and useless. She still had the blade hidden in her leg-- would it even be able to slice through chainmail? Even if she aimed for his legs or head, was she going to be able to get close enough to him without catching the sharp end of a sword?  _ Think, _ Ena scolded herself.  _ He’s almost there. You can’t dodge forever.  _

Just as the man was about to bring the blade just inches from Ena’s face, he reared back. A pair of arms were around his neck, locking him in a chokehold.

“Dammit,” Talia said through gritted teeth. “You had to run in before we figured out what to do.” 

The man swung his sword limply a few times before staggering backwards, gasping and turning a violent shade of purple. “Don’t just stand there, you fucking idiot! Get the other one!” Talia roared. 

“Right,” Ena replied, shaken out of her stupor. She turned to see the burlier man with the bow trying to crawl away, holding his hand over the bullet hole in his thigh. He turned as Ena approached, drawing the bow from his back and aiming an arrow at her, but she was quicker, and landed a kick to his jaw and the arrow fell from his hand. He was bleeding from his nose and lip now and could barely stand. By some miracle, Ena only had some sore ribs from the kick earlier. It would not be a fair fight-- which was fine with her. 

“Fucking heretic,” the man spat, dribbling blood onto his tunic.

“Slaver scum,” she snarled back, and reared back for a kick again, knocking him upside the jaw and snapping his head back. He howled in pain. 

“Your leg is metal, isn’t it?” He said, slurring his words through the pain. “You animals are so eager to throw away the last of your humanity.” 

“Shut up,” Ena said, and sent her foot flying into his balls. He doubled over in pain. The image of the decayed man stuck in the trap, the bones in his calf splintered, the dirt under his rotted fingernails. “Shut the fuck up, you fucking  _ monster _ .” She kicked once, twice, four times. She felt something snap but couldn’t be bothered to determine what. Once he was reduced to a quivering, bloody lump of meat, she picked up the arrow he dropped earlier, held it in her hand, and gave him what the slave man would never have. 

Mercy.

“You killed yours?” Talia asked as Ena straightened up and wiped blood from her hands. She nodded. “Good.” Talia passed Ena her pack, now dangling from one broken strap. She took it and examined the break; it wasn’t along a seam, but a few stitches and it would be fine. 

“Thanks,” Ena said. 

“Shove your thanks. You could have gotten yourself killed, and then where would we be?” Talia said. Her voice raised to a shout. “What if they had firearms? You would be shot full of holes right now. What if there were more men than just those two? You barely escaped with your life against two!”

“I couldn’t do nothing, Talia. These people--” 

“Are you so deluded that you think your moral high ground is going to put a hole in their heads?” Talia roared. “Throwing your life away is going to accomplish what? Is going to save who?” 

“All that matters now is that I’m alive and they’re dead,” Ena said. 

“Because I decided to save your ass,” Talia growled. 

“Yeah,” Ena said, her voice softening. “Thank you. For saving me.” 

Talia looked at Ena, fire still behind her eyes. She shook her head and pushed past Ena. 

“Come on,” Talia said finally. “It’s getting dark. The fort isn’t far.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	9. Traitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for nudity and knives. Also, if smut isn't your cup of tea, you're gonna want to skip next chapter.

By the time Ena and Talia crested the hill that overlooked the verdant valley near the center of the Tranquil, the sun was hanging low on the horizon. 

“Is it far?” Ena asked, wiping sweat from her brow. 

“No.” Talia replied. “Come on.” She strode ahead, ignoring Ena’s eyes boring holes into her back. Talia knew she was being cold, but she couldn’t help it. She was still angry about rushing in to fight those soldiers earlier, concerned that Ena was hurt-- and in the back of her mind the bounty cube she’d found in Ena’s things loomed large. She didn’t want to think about the implications of the thing, the idea that Ena would betray her, turn her in to House Sanguis, was surprisingly painful. Talia hadn’t admitted to herself how attached to Ena she’d become until it was too late. The part of her brain hardwired for survival told her to cut her losses and run far away, screw her chances of completing the job. And yet, another part of her wanted to deny the evidence, to stay by Ena’s side on blind faith, despite everything. For now, she pushed it all down-- a meal and a rest in the relative safety of the fort would give her time to properly think about what to do.

“Here,” Talia said, once they’d reached a small clearing. Ena looked around. 

“What, is it...invisible?” 

Ena didn’t reply, instead searching the ground on her hands and knees. She found what she was looking for soon enough-- a latch, disguised in the gnarled bark of a decrepit tree nearby. She pulled it out and twisted at a sharp ninety degree angle. The edges of a trapdoor cleverly hidden with foliage appeared, grinding and creaking on old hinges as it opened. 

“Come on,” Talia said, putting the lever back in place. 

“Cool,” Ena breathed, and followed suit. Once she and Cleo had stepped inside, Talia reached up to the handle fixed to the ceiling and closed it behind them, enveloping the interior chamber in darkness. For a second they were suspended in darkness, before the automatic lights clicked on above, revealing a stark concrete room with stairs leading down into the bunker. 

“After you,” Talia said. Ena obliged, starting cautiously down the stairs, with Talia and Cleo following close behind. The interior chamber and stairs were wide, meant to channel troops in much larger numbers than just two, and their footsteps echoed eerily in the corridor. 

“Creepy in here, isn’t it?” Ena said. 

“It’s safe,” Talia said. “It’s well-hidden enough that I doubt anyone is camping out down here.” 

“Not what I meant,” Ena replied. “But good to know.” 

They reached the bottom of the long corridor down, a square antechamber closed off by a huge metal door. Talia shrugged off her pack and rummaged inside it for a moment, pulling out her  _ ESSENTIALS TO SURVIVING IN THE ROGUELANDS _ . She flipped to the back, where a few strings of numbers were scrawled in handwriting too terrible for anyone but her to discern, and stepped close to the door. A small panel was affixed to the right-hand side of the door, and Talia flipped it open to reveal a keypad. Hurriedly, she typed in a nine-digit code, flipping the guidebook closed and praying no one changed the access numbers. After a brief pause, the door’s locks clunked mechanically and slowly the heavy door swung open. Talia breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Come on, then,” Talia said, and stepped inside.

The bunker was nearly identical to most other military outposts Talia had seen, if a little dustier and without any troops stationed here. Barracks to the right. Armory to the left. Storage up ahead. Here, where they stood, was the mess hall, a wide, warehouse-like space lit with pale fluorescent lights, equipped with long tables that stretched from one end to the other and a kitchen and serving station at the back. Talia could have almost heard the voices of men echoing as they scraped their plates clean somewhere, as though the echoes had been hiding in the rafters and had just now been disturbed and shook loose. 

“Looks like you were right,” Ena said. “No one’s been in here for a long time. But just in case…” Ena turned to Cleo, who was sitting obediently at the foot of the front door. “Wait here. Just in case anyone tracks us here. Okay? Make a noise if anyone tries to get in.” Cleo tilted her head in acknowledgement. Satisfied, Ena walked over to a table and sat at the attached bench, letting her pack hit the floor with a thud. “Ah, shit, I’m sore. Where’s the shower?” 

“Later. First let’s get some food.” Talia placed her pack next to Ena’s on the table. “There should be some powdered rations and dehydrated meals still kicking around the pantry. I’ll go check and see.” 

“Go on ahead,” Ena said. “I’m gonna rest for a second.” 

Talia paused. She didn’t see any long-range communication devices in Ena’s things the night when she’d discovered the holocube, but she didn’t trust Ena leaving her sight for a second. Talia knew there were radios somewhere in the base-- of course, Ena might not know  _ where _ , but it was a safe assumption to make that a military bunker came equipped with them. If Ena contacted House Sanguis while Talia had her guard down--

“Don’t be lazy, come and help me prep dinner,” Talia said. 

“Do I have to?” Ena whined. She had already kicked off her boots and was lounging with her head resting on the tabletop. 

“Yes. Come on,” Talia insisted, dragging Ena to her feet by her forearm. 

“But I’m  _ sore _ ,” Ena moaned. 

“You’d be a lot less sore if you hadn’t picked a fight earlier,” Talia said. “Come on.” Ena huffed, disgruntled, but went along anyway. The storage room next to the kitchen was stark, as Talia had expected, but not totally bare: packets of oatmeal, tinned fish and meat, packages of crackers, and energy bars that Talia remembered tasting like chalk were among the single box they found stowed on one of the shelves. 

“Not the best, but at least it’s not out of date,” Talia said. “These things will survive the next three apocalypses, at least.” 

“Score,” Ena said, rifling through the box. “We can take some for the road, too.” 

They prepared their meals in relative silence and took a seat to eat them in kind. Talia wasn’t sure whether Ena was tired, or had caught on to Talia figuring out her game. It was infuriating not knowing where she stood, being suspicious of Ena’s every move. Finally, Ena broke the silence. 

“I know I asked earlier, but...is everything okay?” Ena asked. 

“I don’t see how that’s your concern,” Talia snapped.

Ena slammed her utensils down. “It’s my concern if it endangers our mission.”

“ _ Our  _ mission, Ena? Or  _ yours _ ?” Talia knew she was too close to revealing her hand, but she didn’t care. She was angry, and it was clouding her judgement. 

“So you’re going to lecture me on being...what, in it for the money? Well, I am. You caught me.”

“That’s not--” 

“I’m not going to be lectured on my morals by another bounty hunter, like you’re any better than me. Don’t delude yourself into thinking you’re any better than me.” 

Talia grit her teeth. “It doesn’t affect our mission,” she said finally. 

“Fine. But I thought we were--” Ena faltered. “--I thought you’d--” Talia raised her eyes to Ena’s. Ena was still angry, but there was a note of pleading in them. Talia set her jaw. Ena turned away. “--whatever. I’m going to go shower. Sulk by yourself all you want.”

_ Shit.  _ Talia was sure she gave away too much, allowed herself to let it slip she knew what Ena’s plans were, and Ena hadn’t given away anything. Talia glanced towards Cleo, still sitting patiently at the front door, who gave her a blank stare in return. Abandoning the last scraps of her food, Talia stood and followed the path Ena took towards the barracks, standing in the doorway to watch. The barracks were dark, lined with cots on either side of the long room. Talia watched as Ena looked around the barracks to see the bathroom door near the back. At least she wasn’t anywhere near the radio, Talia reasoned. Ena left, the bathroom door swinging behind her, and soon Talia heard the noise of the shower switch on. 

Cautiously, Talia followed, making her way down the corridor between bunks towards the silhouette of the bathroom door. She swung it open. Ena was sat on a stool near the doorway, her socks, boots, and jacket lying in a heap next to her. The showers were communal, without any stalls, all lined against the far wall. Ena had turned one on and left it to warm while she’d undressed. When Talia entered, Ena looked up, shot Talia a glare, and started to ignore her, shucking off her pants without giving her a second look. Talia took a stool on the other side of the door silently and began to undress herself as well, unclipping the clasps on her boots first. After a while, Talia felt Ena stand and turn away. Talia snuck a peek over her shoulder at Ena as she did, catching a glimpse of a slender, bare back that made her heart thud in her chest, and quickly Talia turned away. She stripped quickly and without much [???] and went to turn on a shower a few spigots down from Ena. The water heated quickly, and Talia felt her muscles unclench under it as she just stood in the warm water for a moment. She then set to work washing herself, rubbing her body down with soap from her pack and scrubbing her hair free of grime and sweat until her scalp was sore and her skin was raw. She had to admit it felt nice after so long. 

Talia finally switched off the shower and took a towel from the rack, pressing it blissfully into her face. Ena was still showering, basking in the rare luxury of warm water. Talia’s eyes went to Ena’s pack, lying next to where she had discarded her clothes. Lying next to it was her machete in its sheath. Ena’s forearm ached as she remembered it sinking deep into her flesh, that first night that felt like so long ago. Silently she made her way over to it. 

Ena was oblivious as Talia approached, naked blade clutched in her fist. Talia’s hands were shaking, and she clenched her hand tighter around the grip to stop it.  _ Don’t think, just act, _ Talia thought. She gritted her teeth.  _ Don’t think.  _

In a flash, her arms were around Ena’s shoulders, slick skin sliding against slick skin, the edge of the knife held cold against Ena’s vulnerable throat. 

“Talia,” Ena said, and in the moment her voice was calm. “Why?” 

“You were going to betray me,” Talia said. She was shaking. It was impossible Ena couldn’t feel it, with her whole body pressed up against her back. “I know you are. You’re going to turn me in to House Sanguis.” 

“I’m-- oh. You found the holocube.” Ena took in a shaky breath and breathed out smooth. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” 

“I wasn’t going to betray you.” 

“As if I’d believe that.” 

“I suppose not.” Ena paused. “Do you want to kill me?” 

“I have to,” Talia growled. She pressed the knife up to Ena’s throat, hard enough to draw the faintest beads of blood. 

“That’s not what I asked.” Ena said, and raised a hand up to touch Talia’s forearm, gently, not pulling it away or clawing or fighting at all. Talia flinched at the touch. Ena turned her face towards Talia, and one eye caught hers. “What do you want?” 

The machete blade rang out as it hit the tile floor, the water washing away the faint droplets of blood left on it. Ena was facing Talia now. When Talia looked up, Ena was already staring at her, dark hair damp and sticking to her face and shoulders, green eyes searching Talia’s mismatched ones with a pleading look. Then, Talia let go, crashing together with Ena and pulling them together, what she’d wanted to do since they met but was too filled with paranoia and hurt and savagery to do before now. Their lips met, Ena raising herself up on tiptoe to reach, and she pressed a kiss to Talia’s bottom lip. Talia opened her mouth in response and kissed her back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
